


Crispers, Cats, and You

by soyforramen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-04-19 21:11:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 75,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4761146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soyforramen/pseuds/soyforramen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crookshanks takes a liking to Hermione's new neighbor. Not that Hermione is complaining. Now if she could only keep him out of the crisper and away from the cheese.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crispers

**29 August**

Hermione juggled her bags, trying to unlock her door left handed. She gave a small grunt of satisfaction when the handle turned and she kicked the door open, wanting nothing more than to spend her Friday evening with a glass of wine, G. M. Weasley’s newest trashy romance novel, and a long hot epsom bath after this horrible day. Her tea had to be thrown out after mice had eaten through it, Malfoy was once again taking credit for all the hard work she was putting in, and Umbridge was, as usual, making her life as absolutely miserable as legally allowed. Ten legal memos had been assigned at 8:00 a.m. and were due before Hermione left in addition to the three briefs already due before 5:00 p.m. It was enough to drive a girl to drink.

Setting her bags down on the counter and pulling her coat off, Hermione dragged herself into the bedroom. She refused to spend another minute in her restrictive work clothes. It was 1999 and her employer still required that women wear skirts, hose, and heels every day, even on the so called ‘casual Fridays.’ All the men were allowed to come in polos, vests, and jeans but the women were given a stern talking to if even one hair was out of place. Every day she dreamed of being able to drop her heels onto Umbridge’s cluttered desk and tell her where to shove her tacky ceramic kittens. Unfortunately with the high flat prices in London she was stuck until she could find an opening that paid just as well.

As she made her way into the darkened door, Hermione tripped on a cloth mouse and stumbled into the dark room, banging her shin on the edge of her bed before she was able to catch herself.

“Bloody cat!” She cursed, rubbing at her shin. If she didn’t love the beast so much she would have taken away his toys in an attempt to teach him a lesson. 

Two years ago, Harry and Neville had given her Crookshanks in an attempt to help mend her broken heart. Theodore Nott had been her forever and a picket fence candidate, the man she thought was about to ask her to move in with him. As it turned out, what he really wanted was someone taller, with blonde hair, and a better set of assets. So in their attempt to help Hermione get over one male they’d decided to gift her another, only this time one that wouldn’t break her heart chasing after a newer model. Of course it was easy for Harry and Neville to think she’d get over him quick enough. They’d finally gotten together in secondary and neither had experienced a broken heart quite like this. 

The cat was out of the bag, so to speak, when Neville had confided to her three weeks after she received the cat that Harry had been so frazzled from the latest murder case to come across his desk he’d completely forgotten her birthday. Panicking at the realization that he’d forgotten for the first time in twenty-three years, Harry had grabbed the kitten out of a garbage bin outside of the restaurant in a panic and ran to the restroom to scrub the poor thing clean before Hermione or Neville showed up. 

Surprisingly, the kitten had been exactly what Hermione needed in her life right then. No longer could she work through the night, sleeping under her desk and living off of her co-worker’s questionable take out. Now there was another creature that relied on her for food, entertainment, and bathroom duty, something Hermione quickly found was required of her as a pet owner. And the fickle yet unconditional love did wonders for her ego. The cat followed her around the apartment constantly demanding her attention and refusing to let her out of his sight. He even went so far as to sit on the edge of the tub while she showered despite his natural hatred of water. 

And he was always waiting up for her, even when she returned much later than his regular feeding time of 8:30 p.m. Even when she was late he still followed her through the apartment, only he took great care to openly ignore her by sitting on the highest surface he could reach and staring just to her left.  
He was an odd one. But he was her odd one.

Hermione grabbed the closest tee shirt and pajama pants she could find – a matching Spice Girls set meant for teenagers that was given to her as a gag gift at the company’s Secret Santa exchange. Even thought it was covered in garish patterns and clashing colors it was still the most comfortable thing she owned. And to complete the look she slipped on a pair of sock covered in cats and the words “Crazy Cat Lady” written along the toes.

Now that she was properly attired for a nice, quiet evening at home Hermione padded into the kitchen to put away her groceries. As usual it consisted almost exclusively of tea, biscuits, and cat food. She’d long ago given up caring what the shop employees thought of her and embraced the title of ‘Crazy Cat Lady’ wholeheartedly. She’d even gone so far as to asking any employee near her the most ridiculous questions she could come up with regarding cat food and tea, once even going so far as to ask what wine would pair nicely with the salmon and carrot puree.

And speaking of cat food, where was Crookshanks? He’d never hidden from her like this before. His preferred method of showing his displeasure was to ignore her from the top of the ice box or slipping into the refrigerator to dig for cheese.

“Crooks, where are you?” she called out to him. “It’s time for your dinner.”

Hermione glanced around the corner of the kitchen only to be met with silence. Odd. Perhaps the can opener would draw him out. A buzzing noise filled the apartment as she began to open the tin and she glanced over her shoulder hoping to catch a glimpse of him. Still no Crookshanks.

He had to be somewhere in the apartment. He was far too lazy to leave it. When Hermione had the bright idea to walk her cat he flopped down on the pavement after five minutes and refused to budge and dragging him along the pavement made him more lethargic. It wasn’t until she’d carried him back to the flat did he show any signs of movement. The minute she set him down on the couch he jumped down and began to play with one of the many toy mice that littered her floor.

Finding no sign of her cat in her bedroom, Hermione returned to the living room to check under the sofa. A yellow piece of paper caught halfway under her door caught her eye and she went to pick it up. In the corner a scrawl of numbers were written in red ink and Hermione unfolded it hoping to find something regarding the whereabouts of her cat. Tight, looping handwriting in red ink did not disappoint.

‘Your cat’s broken into the flat, still not sure how he managed it. Keeping him here until you’ve returned. – Apt. 24B.’

xxx

Hermione glanced at the number on the door once more before giving it three sharp knocks. With any luck her downstairs neighbor hadn’t thrown her cat out when they found out about his temperament. At the best of times her cat avoided everyone who wasn’t her; at the worst of times he seemed determined to make as many enemies as possible. Hermione shifted her weight as time seemed to stretch on in the hallway. Glancing down at her watch she realized it was just after one in the morning, well after most residents had gone to bed. She was just about to give up and try again in the morning when the door was thrown open by a shirtless red-head who towered over her by at least a foot, his hair ruffled by sleep and his face stretched in a yawn.

Hermione snapped her eyes back to his face once she realized she was ogling him only to find that he was taking the same opportunity. His eyes roamed lazily down her body and she blushed when she remembered what she was wearing. A slow grin crossed his face as his eyes drifted up and Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest hoping to hide the pop band from view. As his grin turned into a full-fledged smirk Hermione wanted to crawl back to her own flat and refuse to leave ever again, cat be damned.

“Can I help you?” he asked as he leaned one arm against the doorframe. All intelligent though flew out of her head as she began compiling a list of all the things he could help her out with around her flat. Her eyes flicked back towards his chest and she began to rewrite the list so that it was largely composed of things that didn’t require a shirt. 

As he stared at her, Hermione realized that an answer was required. “Cat,” she told him. She shook herself mentally and tried to focus. “My cat. I’m here to pick up my cat. I’m in 14B, just above.”

“Ah, come to pick up the infamous Thomas O’Malley then,” he said. He walked away from the door and Hermione’s head tilted as she noticed the back was just as attractive as the front. He disappeared into a room on the right and Hermione took a tentative step into the apartment.

“Er, yes. I suppose.” She glanced around at the mauve painted walls and found them covered with a number of picture frames, each containing more freckled redheads. The bits that weren’t covered in frames were taken up by blueprints and what looked to be chemical formulas. Hermione followed him around the corner, glancing into the dining area only to find a table covered in what looked to be a torn apart engine. “I apologize for this. He’s never gotten out of the apartment once. Even if there’s a bird on the landing he refuses to get up on the window sill.”

Her neighbor chuckled and leaned against the counter. “Well he got out somehow. Managed to eat half my curry before I noticed he was there, the sly bastard. We tried to chase him down but he managed to escape us every time. George tore apart his room trying to chase him down.”

Hermione’s polite smile fell a fraction of an inch as she listened. We. Of course he was part of a we. A man that gorgeous wouldn’t ever be anything more than a we for more than a week. She dragged her eyes away from his arms to look around the lime green kitchen but could find no sign of her cat. When he realized what she was looking for her neighbor laughed again and leaned forward to open up his icebox.

There atop a head of cabbage sat Crookshanks in all his orange furry glory looking for all the world as if he’d just eaten a tub of cream. And from the looks of the ice box, he probably had.

Hermione paused for a moment, unsure of whether this was a joke. “Why is my cat in your crisper?”

Fred grinned at her and leaned back against the counter. “That’s what we’ve been trying to figure out all night. One of us will take him out and ten minutes later he’s back in there.”

There was that we again. That bloody, messy, untouchable we. It was just her luck that the first attractive, intelligent man she’d been around in a long time would be a we. It seemed as if Parvati and Lavender were right again. All the good men were taken and the rest were …. Well they were something that was escaping her just now. In all likelihood it would come to her at some random moment after she’d lost all context for it. Now, however, Parvati’s Friday night wine parties for all the other bitter-thirty-year old singles in London was beginning to look better and better.

“Well, he is rather fond of cheese,” Hermione offered weakly.

“Ha! George found that out quick enough. Once we threw the last of the curry out Georgie-boy got it into his head to make cheese on toast instead. Your man there ate half a block before we finally gave up and threw it in the freezer.” At her odd look, he quickly added, “The cheese, I mean. Not your cat.”

“Yes, that would be an odd place for a cat,” she told him dryly. He quirked a grin.

Hermione reached into the crisper to grab Crookshanks, intent on trying to salvage something of tonight. “Well, it is late. Thanks ever so much for keeping an eye on him. I’ll just grab Crookshanks and we’ll be out of you and your boyfriend’s hair.”

For some reason her neighbor found her comment wildly funny and began laughing so hard he had to support himself on the counter. He was still laughing as Hermione closed his front door behind her.

It wasn’t until she’d gotten back to her own flat that the second half of Parvati and Lavender’s words of wisdom came to her: All the other men who weren’t taken were insane.


	2. Cats

**1 September**

Not for the first time Hermione cursed her choice in careers. Any relaxation she’d been able to fit into the past two days was shot to hell within the first ten minutes of arriving to work. It was only Monday and already she’d been assigned three briefs, eight deeds, twelve memos, and three client interviews due before Wednesday. Two more months of this and she’d gladly trade her apartment for a cardboard box just outside Piccadilly Square.

Hermione dragged herself up the lobby stairs and turned left towards the mailboxes. A small ridiculous flare of hope sparked in her chest and she began to hope for a letter informing her she’d just inherited a million from some distant uncle’s estate. Sadly the only thing awaiting her in the box was a bright pink flyer cheerfully proclaiming the opening of a Magic Wok restaurant. Hermione sighed and rested her head against the cool metal. Images of laying on soft sand in front of calming waves flitted through her mind. If she focused she could hear the sound of seagulls at the very edge of hearing.

Straightening back up she turned to find 24B pulling out a stack of magazines and envelopes from his own box. Perhaps the day wasn’t entirely wasted.

“Hello.” She smiled at her neighbor, happy to be wearing heels and a skirt for the first time in her life. At least now she looked like an adult rather than a bushy haired teeny bopper.  
Her neighbor glanced at her and returned to his mail.

Hermione fidgeted with the flyer. Perhaps she was wrong last Friday and he’d been too polite to tell her and her cat to shove off. Trying to find something to say, she glanced at the lime green flyer he was currently looking at. Neville did always say that the best way to get a man’s attention was through common ground. 

“Glad to finally be getting a Chinese around her,” she chirped. Even if he did have a boyfriend that didn’t mean they couldn’t be friends. “Before it was at least twenty minutes away by train to get a decent lo mein.”

He glanced up at her before tossing the flyer in the trash can. “Huh. Good to know,” he muttered before turning to leave without so much as a goodbye.

Perhaps this was why her father always warned her that men were strange creatures to begin with and she’d do better to avoid them.

xxxx

**11 September**

Hermione fell onto her sofa and groaned. She kicked off her shoes and listened with satisfaction to the thumping sound as they hit the ground. Another week was almost over and she was that much closer to an early grave. She was quickly becoming convinced she wasn’t paid nearly enough. And if tomorrow was anything like today she’d be the first in line to pick out her cardboard box and move outside of Harry and Neville’s fist. Surely she’d be much more content to shake her fist at the neighborhood children and mutter to herself all day. The more she thought about it the more appealing it sounded. At least then she’d be able to take a day off.

Almost as if he understood her frustration, Crookshanks jumped onto the couch and began kneading at the small of her back. For the five days she’d come home to find a folded yellow paper taped to her door and the same tight, looping handwriting telling her that her cat was, once again, in the crisper downstairs. And for the last five days 24B had thrown open the door at her knock, shoved a spitting Crookshanks into her arms, and slammed the door closed before she could say anything more than a thank you.

It was almost enough to bruise a girl’s ego. When she’d mentioned it to Neville he had just brushed it off, theorizing that her neighbor merely had a thing for Geri Halliwell and was too irritable when her face wasn’t gazing back at him. Whatever the problem was Hermione quickly decided that it was best to just swear off men for the rest of the year and join Neville on his quest to beat Mrs. Sprout’s prize winning roses with his own tulip hybrid.

Just as Hermione was beginning to drift off, tulips and roses taking up arms against each other on a green battlefield, a knock came from her window, startling her awake. She fell off the couch and she heard Crookshanks hit the floor and run into her room. Hermione groped for the cricket bat Harry had insisted she keep under her couch and stood with it clutched tightly in her hands. Laughter came from her fire escape and it brought all the strange stories Harry had told her about come to the forefront of her mind. It wasn’t until she’d taken three steps towards the window, cricket bat raised high above her head, that she recognized her neighbor sitting outside on the fire escape.

The grin plastered on his face told her he’d seen her graceful dive off the couch and she could feel her own smile growing at the absurdity of it. 24B waved a gloved hand at her and her smile widened at how badly it contrasted with his hat and scarf. His laughter was a stark contrast to his behavior earlier in the week and Hermione began to fear she’d get emotional whiplash if this kept up.

Normally she’d be concerned about a man sitting on her fire escape for an as yet undetermined amount of time, at least long enough to need a dog eared book, but somehow she couldn’t find it in herself to think he was out to do her harm. Then again, Harry always did say that’s what all the people found in basements said. Hermione shook her head before Harry’s paranoia wore off on her.

She lowered the cricket bat and set it in the corner before pulling at the window. The latch stuck for a moment before it finally gave loose with a metallic groan. Hermione ushered her neighbor in, hoping to get him in before he brought in the abnormally cold wind with him.

Her neighbor ducked through the window and helped her close the window once inside. He threw her a wink and began to strip his mauve colored gloves off. “Fantastic grip on the bat there. Did you play at uni?”

“What on earth are you doing on my fire escape?” she asked, pointedly ignoring his question. 

“Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he told her as he stuffed his gloves into his pockets. He leaned over to peer at a picture of her, Harry, and Neville at the beach three years ago as he began to unwind his chartreuse scarf. “George had company over and I didn’t feel up to playing the host tonight. Instead I got the bright idea to brave the cold and try to figure out how your cat keeps sneaking into the flat. I thought he would have come through the window, but he hasn’t even taken one step towards the window since I’ve been out there, two birds and all that. Lucky I brought something to pass the time,” he said as he held the book up. Hermione glanced at the cover and saw that he’d brought a tattered, well-read copy of The Tailor of Panama with him. Well at least his taste in books was better than most men she’d met.

He pulled the bright pink hat off his head and ran his fingers through his hair. Hermione’s fingers itched to smooth his hair back down.

“Curry?” she blurted out. Hermione cringed at her words. Good god, did she always have to be such a smooth operator around attractive men?

“Pardon?” her neighbor asked.

“I mean, would you like some curry? To make up for Crooks eating all of yours last week. I’ve picked up some on my way home, and Mr. Dubois always gives me such large portions there’s more than enough to share. It’s really quite good, I’ve got the recipe somewhere. As a thank you, I mean,” she paused at his grin and decided it would be best to try and start again. 

“I mean, would you like to stay for curry? It would be my way of thanking you for this past week and being so nice with Crookshanks. He’s not the easiest cat to get along with and I really do appreciate everything you and your boyfriend have done for me,” she said breathlessly. Realizing she was rambling again she shut her jaw with a click.

His grin widened and her stomach clenched in anticipation. “I’d love to stay for dinner,” he told her and Hermione felt her stomach relax. “And George is my brother, not my boyfriend,” he added with a wink as he set his book down onto the side table. 

xxxx

Hermione was gasping for air as 24B finished telling her the story of his latest encounter with a business acquaintance, complete with over the top impressions and gestures. Once she was finally able to stop laughing, she reached for her glass of wine and took a sip. When he added that he’d glued a parting gift of bang snaps under Mr. Fudge’s spare pair of shoes she almost snorted the rest of it out of her nose in amusement. She watched as he picked up his own glass of wine and took a drink.

Surprisingly this was one of the most enjoyable nights she’d had in a long time. Hermione glanced at him again and finally made up her mind. With Harry’s voice in her ears telling her to be more assertive, Hermione leaned over and kissed 24B. He tensed for a minute and then, like a spark to a gas oven, they were suddenly pulled together, all lips, tongues, and noses.

(Funny thing, noses, Hermione thought. They ran, stopped up, and always seemed to get in the way of things. Then again if Harry was to be believed the alternative could be much worse. She was reminded of the man he’d arrested multiple times who called himself Lord something-or-another and went around in a long black bathrobe and threatened to steal other people’s noses. Apparently he’d lost his in a cooking accident. Roesport, perhaps? No, there was a v in there somewhere, she was sure of it. Focus, Granger! she told herself. Tall, luscious, entirely edible ginger man on your couch attempting to snog you senseless and you’re thinking about Harry’s work. She really needed to sort out her priorities one of these days.)

At some point in her musings about strange men in parks, 24B had moved down to her neck, kissing and nipping lightly. Hermione gasped as the attention and he smiled against her neck. He sat up just enough to catch her eye before dipping lower to kiss just along the hollow of her neck –

“Ow, bloody hell!” he yelped and ground his hips painfully against her thighs. He sat back roughly and shook his arm. 

Hermione groaned audibly at the sight. Crookshanks was dangling from her neighbor’s arm, clinging to it as if it was the last meal he’d ever have. Of course her cat would decide to protect her virtue at the worst possible time. She reached over and gingerly began to pry her cat from her neighbor’s arm and trapped the mewling cat against her chest as soon as he came free.

“He’s a mean bloody bastard isn’t he?” Her neighbor said. He rubbed his hand against his arm and Hermione feared that he was hurt.

“I am so sorry, he probably thought you were attacking me. He didn’t break the skin did he?” she asked as she pushed the sleeve up. When she saw there was no damage other than a red mark she sighed in relief. Thought this wasn’t the first man Crookshanks had tried to run off it was the first one she wanted to stick around for longer than the evening.

“No, it’s fine. Just a bit sore is all.”

Hermione gave him a tight smile. “Good, I’m glad.”

They stared at each other, neither knowing what to say. Hermione tried to come up with something but what did you say to someone you just snogged the living daylights out of only to have your cat become jealous? There probably wasn’t even a Hallmark card for it.

As the silence stretched on 24B stood up and picked up his jacket from the side table. Hermione jumped up and held Crookshanks tighter against her chest. Her neighbor cleared his throat and shifted his weight before running his hand through his hair. 

“Probably for the best anyways. Meeting with important people in the morning and all that,” he told her.

Hermione’s heart sunk and she gave a low chuckle. There was the dreaded brush off and all because her cat couldn’t stand the idea of sharing her attention. “Suppose you’re right. I’ve got a meeting as well and should probably get my beauty rest. Have to look good for the undead before they start rolling around in their graves.” She winced when he gave her a look. Black humor about her job should probably wait until at least the fourth date and they hadn’t even been able to get through one. “Big research project on very old cases and statutes that don’t really matter anymore.”

“Ah, right.”

As they stood there Crookshanks growling slowly gave way to purring. Realizing the danger had passed Hermione put him down and opened the door. Her neighbor hesitated before walking through it. He paused just outside as if he had something to say and that spark of hope began to rise again. 

“Great curry, by the way.”

Hermione smiled at him in an attempt to meet him halfway. “It is. I haven’t been disappointed by their food yet. I can give you a copy of the recipe if you’d like. But I do have to warn you not to share it with anyone else even under threat of dismemberment.”

24B laughed softly at that. “Thanks. I’d like that.”

“After all I need to make it up to you after my ruddy cat tonight.” Hermione leaned against the door frame and Crookshanks began to wind his way around her legs. He stared at her neighbor and when he didn’t move Crookshanks growled at him. Her neighbor took a step back and ran his hands through his hair nervously.

“Guess that’s that then.”

Hermione bit her lip. “Guess so. Good night then,” she whispered softly.

“Night,” he said as he turned down the hall.

She watched him walk away, disappointed that he hadn’t been able to stay longer. With a start she realized that she didn’t know him as anything more than her neighbor in 24B. 

“Wait!” she called out loudly. She stepped out towards the stairway in the hopes she’d caught him in time. 24B popped back around the doorframe and took a tentative step towards her. “I’m afraid I don’t, well who exactly,” she stopped herself before she could begin to ramble again. “What’s your name?”

He laughed a rich treacle laughter that crawled up her spine like the warmth of a spring day. Hermione couldn’t stop from grinning back at him.

“Fred. Fred Weasley.”

A nice name. Not a common one but then again she was not one to talk. It seemed familiar someone, almost as if she’d heard it in passing somewhere. Realizing that he was waiting on her to reply, she called back to him. “Granger. I’m Hermione Granger.”

If anything her neighbor’s – Fred’s, she corrected – smile grew larger. He began to open his mouth as if to say something but was interrupted when her neighbor across the hall cracked her door open just enough to shout at the two to keep it down. Hermione bit back a laugh and caught Fred’s eye. Here they were, two grown adults, acting like two teenagers caught out past curfew and she couldn’t be happier.

“Goodnight Granger,” he whispered. He waved and disappeared down the stairwell.

“Goodnight,” she whispered softly back. Perhaps she’d finally found the one man in London who wasn’t put off by her ill-tempered cat.

xxxx

**19 September**

After staring at Fred’s forgotten book laying on the side table, Hermione finally drew up the courage to return it to him. It took her a week of going back and forth on whether she should pop round with it or wait until he came round to pick it up. She’d stared at it for twenty minutes after work today before deciding that staring at it would get her no way. 

Now that she was standing in front of his door it was a much different prospect. She shifted to book and the two tickets between her hands and began to wonder if it was better to just throw the book at him and run away like a schoolchild. Perhaps he’d know what she meant by that. Before she could determine the best escape route on this floor the door was pulled open and an irritable Fred appeared in front of her.

“You again,” he said flatly. “Before you ask your cat isn’t here.” He went to shut the door and Hermione did the first thing that came to her – she shoved the book into the door frame and began to ramble.

“I’ve brought your book down, you left it last week on my side table. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to return it until just now, things have been mad at work, but I noticed you hadn’t finished it yet and I’m not one to keep a book from being read.” 

Fred opened the door and narrowed his eyes at her almost as if he was trying to place where he’d met her. His mailbox demeanor slipped quickly into place and Hermione began to wonder if she was attempting to shoehorn herself into the role of the other woman in a previously unknown relationship. In an attempt at indifference she leaned over to peer into the apartment and braced herself when she spotted a pretty young woman lounging on the couch and reading a magazine.

Fred glared at her and moved to block the woman from view, possibly in an attempt to keep the woman from seeing her. Harry did always say she had the worst taste in men.

“Er, right. Well I also wanted to say thanks. Again,” she added at his raised eyebrow. “For my cat,” she clarified. “Not for,” she waved her hand flimsily and lowered her voice, “the other thing.”

Fred didn’t respond. His face was an absolute blank and Hermione had no clue where she stood at this moment. Where men always this difficult after you’d fed and snogged them as thanks for keeping your cat in the crisper? Or did she just manage to find all the strange ones? 

“And that recipe for the curry we had was in the back. I’d have slipped it under the door but I’m afraid the book was a bit too thick to fit through. Oh!,” she had almost forgotten the most important part. “There’s also two tickets in it to go to le Carre’s book signing tomorrow. I figured you could take someone,” she said cheerfully. She had hoped she would be the one going but in all likelihood he’d take the gorgeous creature waiting for him, if he even went at all.

Fred blinked at her, confusion all but dripping down his face. Hermione’s smiled tightened. Certainly he wouldn’t have forgotten her by now. Or maybe he really was one of those men Harry was always warning her about.

“Or not,” she amended. If he wanted to act like nothing had happened she was more than happy to play along. “My dad’s a big fan of his is all and something came up so he couldn’t make it. I just thought that you might be interested in hearing him speak since you’d mentioned he was your favorite author.” Still no reaction. Had she entered the Twilight Zone and missed Rod Sterling’s entrance in her nervousness? Ah well. Best to end this and get back to her own flat. “Besides, it’s the least I can do since you and George have been so nice about my cat taking a liking to your apartment.”

For the first time today Fred began to laugh at that. His confusion dropped away and was replaced with a genuine smile. “Is that it then? Silly me I get it now. Hang on a mo.” Fred unwound himself from his place at the door and walked into the apartment. He stopped just long enough to plant a kiss on the woman’s ebony locks and Hermione’s stomach began to twist in on herself. 

“Fred!” The man yelled loud enough to catch the woman’s attention. She turned her head and for the first time Hermione got a good look at her. Even her profile was gorgeous, smooth and soft in all the right places. Hermione really had no chance, didn’t she? “That barmy bird from upstairs with the insane cat is upstairs to see you. You might want to finish washing your bits and get out here.”

A door slammed not a minute later and man looking remarkably like Fred streaked through the living room clad only in a towel. He disappeared down the hallway to the left at the same time that not-Fred sauntered back in to the living room. Hermione could only blink. What on earth had she gotten herself into?

Not-Fred handed her the book and invited her inside. “Sorry about that love. My brother’s been a bit out of sorts since last night, though I’m sure you’d know more about that than I would.” Hermione blushed at the implication and luckily was kept from having to answer when a now clothed Possibly-Fred appeared suddenly.

“Hi.”

Hermione glanced between the two identical faces and began to piece things together. “So you’re twins then?”

Not-Fred glanced at Likely-Fred. “Is that what they’re calling it these days? And here I was thinking that they broke the cloning machine again.” Maybe-Fred shot him a dirty look and walked towards her. Not-Fred only sighed. “Fine, fine. No playing with the neighbors.”

“You’ll have to excuse him,” Quite-Likely Fred told her, “I got most of the manners, intelligence, and good-looks.”

“Humility too apparently,” she said. Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth as she realized she’d spoken aloud. Her words hung in the air a moment and Not-Fred and the woman on the couch began laughing. 

Almost-Certainly-Fred scowled at them and placed his hand on the small of her back. “Let’s step outside, shall we?” He pulled the door closed after them.

“I didn’t know you had a twin,” she said. She fidgeted with the book in her hands in an attempt to keep herself from straightening his collar.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Most-Certainly-Fred said as he ran his hand through his still damp hair. “He’s been in a mood these past few weeks. Business has hit a bit of a bump and he’s been taking it rather hard. He’s not always like that.”

“Oh. Well I hope it picks up soon.” Hermione tuck a bit of hair behind her ear and played with the spine of the book. His eyes glanced down towards it and she thrust it at him. “I brought your book back. And I’ve put the curry recipe in there towards the back. And there’s two tickets to a le Carre book signing tomorrow if you wanted to go.”

He took the book from her and flipped it open to the spot where she’d placed the tickets and the recipe. After glancing at both he looked up her. “Go with me?”

“I – of course.” 

Fred smiled at her. “Great. We can do breakfast beforehand if you don’t have any other plans.”

Hermione smiled back. “I’d love to. Is 10 o’clock alright?”

“Brilliant. I’ll see you then.” 

As she made her way back up to her apartment, Hermione couldn't keep the grin from her face. Perhaps she would buy Crookshanks that new toy after all.


	3. Conversations

**20 September**

Hermione was frantic. She had little less than forty-five minutes to coax her cat up from the floor vent. So now, instead of showering, she was laying down on the floor trying her best to remind her cat why her apartment was infinitely preferable to the vents. In the past half hour she’d done everything she could think of to get his attention once she discovered her arm didn’t go past the u-bend in the vent. She’d tried dropping a disturbing amount of gouda, anchovies, and cat nip into the vent hoping to entice Crookshanks to stick his head out far enough to grab him. When that didn’t work, she’d begun pitching cheese and fish as far as she could around the bend to draw him out.

Now she was reduced dangling a toy mouse from the laces of her trainers down into the vent. She slowly began to lower the mouse, jumping a bit as Crookshank’s paw darted out and dragged the mouse into the vent with him. Hermione pulled at the string, a grin forming as she saw the tips of his ears coming out. Her grin was shortlived, however, as Crookshanks found a footing in the vent and yanked hard enough on the mouse to make her lose her grip. Hermione could only watch as the mouse and the shoelace disappeared after him. She briefly wondered how much trouble she’d be in if she called emergency services to come fish her cat out of the vent. 

With a sigh Hermione decided it was best to change tactics. “Crooks baby. Don’t you want to come back in here with me? It’s much more comfortable and much cleaner than those dusty vents. And look, I’ve got all your favorite treats and toys up here with me,” she crooned as she squeezed his favorite mouse. Crookshanks gave her a short meow and padded further down the vent. Hermione growled in frustration and sat up. A glance at the clock showed it was already 9:30. If she didn’t get in the shower now she wouldn’t have any hope of making it downstairs in time.

 

“Fine, stay down there you ruddy cat. See if I care.” Hermione stood up, determined to leave the stubborn cat to his fate. As soon as she passed her bedroom door her resolve faltered and she ran back to the vent hoping to find his flattened face staring back at her. 

“Crooks, come on please? I know you’re mad at me but I can’t stay here all day waiting for you to get over it.” No response. Fine, if he wanted to act like the spoiled brat he was she was more than happy to let him. For now, though, she needed to get into the shower.

 

Xxxx

Twenty minutes later Hermione emerged from her bedroom showered and dressed. A quick glance around showed no sign of her cat. An image of Crookshanks stretched out in the vents above the basement furnace flashed through her mind and she ran over to the vent desperate to saver her cat. Hermione crouched down and began clicking her tongue to try and get his attention.

“Crooks, it’s time to come out. There’s an important meeting I have to get to and you can’t stay down there all day,” she told him. She reached into the vent and wriggled her fingers. A knock came from the door and she ignored it. “Come on baby. You’re not in trouble. If you come out I promise to make you curry with extra cheese, but you have to get your fat orange butt up here.” 

A muffled laugh came through the door and Hermione glanced up at it. Whoever it was it seemed like they weren’t planning on leaving anytime soon. She stood up and brushed the dust and fur off her jeans on her way to the door. She threw the door open only to find her cat lounging around Fred’s neck like some demented purring scarf. 

Fred nodded towards her cat. “He was in the bread box this morning. Gave Ang a bit of a scare when she went to make toast.”

Hermione sighed in relief and invited him in. “Oh thank goodness. I was scared I’ve have to call someone to pull him out before he found his way to the basement furnace.” She reached up to take her cat from Fred but pulled back when his ears flattened and his eyes narrowed at her. Hermione scowled back at her cat.

“First he runs into the vent and won’t come out and now he’s mad at me because I left him there. Are you sure you don’t want to keep him?”

Fred laughed and pulled Crookshanks down from around his neck. “George would kill me if I said yes. Do you know he likes to sit on the edge of the tub and watch people shower? Freaked Ang out to no end. Your cat that is, not George. Mum broke him of that habit years ago.”

Hermione laughed and took her squirming cat away from him. “I would hope so. Boys are so much easier to train when they’re young,” she teased.

She carried Crookshanks to her bedroom and closed the door behind her to avoid the chance that her cat would run towards the vents again. He growled and scratched at the door in displeasure. “If you listened every now and then I wouldn’t have to lock you in,” she scolded.

“I take it this is where he went through?” Fred asked as he leaned over the back of her couch. 

Hermione nodded. “Yes. He ran under my feet this morning and I accidentally stepped on him. I ran after him to check on him but he’d already run under the couch. By the time I was able to move everything around to get back there he’d already jumped in and refused to come out.”

“That would explain the redecorating,” he said to himself. Hermione glanced around and realized she’d moved every piece of furniture in the living room in her frantic attempts to chase her cat down. She bit her lip and nudged the love seat closer to the wall.

“Do you have a screwdriver? Phillips should do it,” Fred asked from behind the sofa.

“Who? Is that the new landlord?”

Fred popped his head up over the couch and grinned at her. “I would assume he’s the guy who made that particular screwdriver.”

“Oh! Is it the flat one or the pointy one?” she asked. 

“The pointy one.”

Hermione began rummaging around in her front closet for the toolbox her father had bought her when she’d first moved in. He’d been adamant that she have something just in case something broke. She doubted keeping her cat out of her neighbor’s bread box was what he’d hand in mind. Finding the right screwdriver, she leaned over the back of the couch and handed it to Fred. She could hear the metal slide across the floor and watched as he twisted the screws back into place. Less than a minute later he was done.

“That should do it,” Fred told her as he stood up. “Unless the barmy thing’s learned how to use a screwdriver.” He returned her screwdriver and came back around the couch, stopping to move her loveseat against the wall. He really was helpful to have around, wasn’t he?

“Honestly, I would put it past him,” Hermione told him as she began putting the toolbox away. “I caught him playing with TV remote once and ever since then I’ve been convinced he watches it while I’m at work. I’m convinced he watches soaps while I’m at work.” She turned around to find that Fred had already moved the couch against the wall and was beginning to move her coffee table. She walked to the other side and began to help move it. 

“I had a business trip last year and Harry and Neville were supposed to watch him for me while I was gone. Had her table always been this heavy? “By the time I’d reached the hotel, Neville had called at least five times saying they’d lost him. I couldn’t go anywhere at the time so I went up to my room and popped open my suitcase to change. Turns out he’d snuck into my suitcase when I wasn’t looking.”

“Just so long as he doesn’t show up in George’s suitcase. Don’t think either one would survive that,” Fred grunted as they finally managed to center the table. “What is this made of anyways? Steel?”

“Er, granite, actually. It’s why I can’t ever move again.”

“Why’s that?” Fred asked as he took a seat on the corner of the table.

Hermione stood up and shook out her arms. “After they dragged it up the stairs Harry and Neville threatened to never speak to me again if I moved. Neville even threated to superglue it to the floor so I couldn’t ever take it with me.” 

“If it ever comes to that, I’ll gladly supply him with the superglue. How on earth did you manage to move that by yourself?” 

Hermione straightened up and placed her hands on her hips. “I am stronger than I look you know.”

Fred only laughed. He threw his thumb back towards the pictures she had on the wall behind him. “I’m guessing that’s them then?”

Hermione hummed and smiled. “Yes, they’re my best mates. Saved me from a bully when we were in our first year at school and we’ve been inseparable ever since.” Fred glanced back at the pictures. “They’ve liked each other for years but never did anything about it until we were almost out of secondary. It’s one of those romantic stories everyone always hears about but never actually happens. They really are brilliant together. I don’t know what I’d do with them.” 

She smiled softly at the pictures before she realized that Fred had turned his attention back to her. She cleared her throat and glanced at the clock to find it was fifteen after ten. “We should probably get going if we want to eat beforehand.”

Fred agreed and stood up to stretch. Hermione opened her bedroom door and Crookshanks took off to the kitchen before she could stop him. They made small talk as she gathered her things, stopping on their way out to lock the door. 

“I meant to ask earlier, but did your apartment smell like old fish and cheese this morning? It was the oddest thing. We couldn’t figure out where the smell was coming from.”

Hermione shook her head and smiled before ducking into the stairwell to cover her flush of embarrassment. “Nope didn’t smell a thing.” 

xxxx

“You know, it would have been nice if you’d mentioned you had a twin last Friday.” Hermione told Fred as she mopped up the last of her eggs with a piece of toast. They’d managed to make it to the bookstore in almost record time and agreed to have breakfast at a small diner across the street.

Fred looked up at her and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Why’s that?” 

Hermione paused to take a before she continued. “I may have made a pass at your brother the other night thinking it was you after I’d split a few bottles of wine with Parvati and Lavender.”

“Really?” Fred stopped and thought a minute. “Wait. Don’t tell me you’re the bird who grabbed his arse when he went to get the mail?” 

Hermione blushed and turned to pick up her coffee. “I didn’t grab his ass,” she said. “I discreetly brushed against it in a provocative manner in order determine his interest.” She looked up at him, mischief in her eyes. “I may also have catcalled him and complimented said arse when he walked up the stairs in front of me.”

Fred broke out in loud laughter and Hermione couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s really not my fault, though. Think about it! One day you’re snogging me senseless on my couch after sitting on my fire escape all day and letting me feed you curry, and not three days later you refuse to even look at me or say anything more than, ‘I see,’ or ‘You’ve got a spot on your face.’ I was beginning to wonder whether you had multiple personalities or something.”

Fred winked at her. “Senseless, eh?”

Hermione threw her napkin at him, laughing. “Oh, hush.”

xxxx

“That was brilliant, wasn’t it?” Hermione asked as she walked down the aisles of the bookstore. She’d enjoyed the talk immensely and while she was disappointed her father wasn’t able to make it, she was happy with her choice of company. She ran her fingers along the spines of the books beside her before stopping at one in particular. She lifted it off the shelf and flipped it over to read the back cover.

“It was, wasn’t it? I’ve been wanting to hear him talk for ages but have never been able to get ahold of tickets before they’d sold out. Thanks for inviting me, I really appreciate it.”

Hermione smiled at him before putting the book back on the shelf. “My dad’s always loved his writing. He’s always been a big reader. He’s the one who got me into reading, really.”

Fred held up the heavy bag of books Hermione had purchased. “Is that why you got so many of them?”

“Yes. He had to get rid a lot of the books he’d had for years when he moved to a smaller apartment. It wasn’t until this past year that he’s started reading again like he used to so this should be a nice surprise for him.”

Fred opened the bag and looked inside to inspect its contents. “If that’s the case, you’ve missed the most important ones at the beginning. These are just the latest ones in the beginning, bit confusing if you haven’t read the first ones.”

Hermione smiled at him before continuing back down the aisle. “He saved his earlier ones; what I got there should finish the set.” She picked up a book further down the aisle, seemingly at random, and handed it to him. “Have you read this one? It’s got a lot of the same spy elements, intrigue, cross-Atlantic mystery, and backstabbing at every turn.” She handed it to him before grabbing another book just above her head. “And this one is always good for a cold day.”

Hermione continued down the aisle, handing Fred books as she made recommendations, secretly pleased that he’d managed to hang on two of the books she’d handed him. She turned the corner and came back with a copy of Catch-22 and Dune. “And these two are something I always recommend for the casual reader. Did you know it took Joseph Heller eight years to complete it? And then when it was released here it went straight to number one.” She held up Dune before continuing. “And this one is full of political intrigue, treachery, giant sand worms, and general galactic chaos.”

Fred laughed at her enthusiasm. “You forgot the Bene Gesserit. Despite my pretty looks, I have read a few of these.” He followed her to the next aisle and watched as she returned the books to their original places. “And if we’re going for book recommendations this is one I’d recommend everyone read at least once a year.” 

Hermione eagerly took the green book from him, always ready for new book recommendations. She scowled at him as she read the title. “Goodnight Moon? Really? And here I thought you’d be more of a Where the Wild Things Are.” She replaced the book. 

“Nah, reminds me too much of my brothers. Did you know my brother Charlie works with tigers?” He reached out and grabbed a different book and held it out to her. When she refused to take it he flipped it around so that she could see the title. “This is a real recommendation this time, I promise. Fantastic word building in this one and the magic is at least halfway believable.”

Hermione took it from him. “I’ll read just about anything once. I can’t guarantee I’ll like it though.”

“Anything?” Fred asked her, his teasing grin slowly rising.

“Yes.” Hermione brushed passed him and began walking towards the front of the store. “And before you ask, yes, I have read that particular manual, and no, I would not recommend it for everyday use. You’d end up in the hospital if you tried any of it.”

Fred’s laughter followed her as she made her way over to the new releases table. She glanced back and found Fred had picked up some sort of architectural book and was flipping through it. Turning back to the table, Gilderoy Lockheart’s newest book in The Travel Trilogy was the second most recommended book. She hesitated a moment, her hand hovering over it. His books were more associated with housewives and flights of fancy rather than something you’d want to be caught reading in public. 

Deciding she didn’t care who found out if she read this type of book (and if a certain person cared that was his problem, not hers), Hermione picked up the book and placed it under the one Fred had recommended. She let her eyes wander across to the other books on the table. The cover of number four was a golden ball with wings on a purple background. Large white words proclaimed it to be The Golden Snitch by G.M. Weasley. Hermione paused as her brain slowly ground into gear. She grabbed the book and flipped it over to find a smiling woman with bright red hair who bore a striking resemblance to Fred.

She stalked back over to Fred, now flipping through a car manual, and pointed the book at him accusingly. “I knew I’d heard your name before!” Fred started and almost dropped the book he was holding. He turned to her, his eyes crossing to try and focus on the book being waved in his face. “I can’t believe I didn’t place it before, Neville and Lavender have both been absolutely raving about these books. They haven’t been this made about a series since the Tom Riddle series hit the shelves.”

Fred took the book from her and flipped it over, smiling as he recognized the author picture. “Hey, look at that. Gin’s book finally came out.” Hermione’s jaw dropped as he began to casually read the back. “Never understood how she went from star football player to bestselling author, but Mum’s never been prouder. Well, except for the smutty bits. Never could read any of it after ‘Her heaving bosoms’ in the first book. Bit weird thinking your baby sister thinks about that sort of thing.”

“Wait. She’s your sister?”

“The one and only. Mum always blamed George and I for corrupting her. She never figured out that Ginny caused more trouble than we could ever hope to.”

Hermione could only gape at him. Neville would die when he found out. Lavender, on the other hand, would do her best to befriend Fred on the off chance she might meet her favorite author. Fred grinned at her astonishment. “Never had that be anyone’s reaction before.”

Hermione closed her mouth with a soft click. Neville would never forgive her if she failed to take the opportunity presented. “Do you think she’d sign a copy out to Neville? Well, and Lavender I suppose, she’d kill me if she found out I didn’t get one for her as well. I mean, it’s fine if you don’t want to, it’s just they’re so over the moon about her, and the holidays are coming up.”

“I’ll ask, but I make no promises. She’s not too happy with me lately.” Fred looked around before leaning closer to her. Hermione leaned in towards him on instinct, wondering what the big secret was. “I changed her car horn week before last during the family dinner. She hasn’t talked to me once she found it now honks out that Spice Girls’ song that’s been everywhere,” he told her proudly.

“Spice Girls? That’s an odd choice. I wouldn’t have expected you to listen to them.”

Fred winked at her. They began walking to the registers and stopped for Hermione to pick up another copy of The Golden Snitch. 

“Let’s just say I was hit by a sudden bout of inspiration when a certain cat made his way into my crisper.” Hermione blushed at his words; she made a mental note to throw away those pyjamas when she got home no matter how comfortable they were.

Hermione laid her books down on the registers and showed her ticket for the bag of books Fred was carrying. Fred raised an eyebrow at the book lying on top of the pile. 

“Lockheart? I wouldn’t have pegged you for a fan. You seem more like the sort to read Joyce or Rushdie, or Austen.”

Hermione sniffed and turned to pay. “Even literary snobs need a break every now and then you know.”

Fred’s grin reemerged and he held up his own copy of The Travel Trilogy that had been hiding under his architecture book. “So glad you agree.”

xxxx

**15 October**

Three and weeks after the book signing, Hermione slowly eased herself in the hot bathwater. She’d had a miserable week, full of yet another series of impossible deadlines and headaches due before she could leave for the weekend. And the worst of it all was finding out that Malfoy had been promoted off the back of her hard work. At least the week hadn’t been a complete waste if last night had been anything to go by.

“So, how did yesterday go?”

Hermione smiled and leaned back against the tub, letting the warm water and Epsom salt relax her muscles. She shifted the phone to her other ear, trying to find a comfortable spot. “With the exception of getting completely lost on the Tube and spilling wine everywhere once I’d arrived, I’d say last night went very well. Fred was a complete gentleman; he even pulled out my chair for me.” 

Harry chuckled. “I’m glad you made it there all right. You never did have a good sense of direction. It was the longest week of my life when we went camping and you were in charge of the map. I never thought we’d reach civilization.”

“It wasn’t nearly that bad,” she told him. She cringed a bit when she thought about it. They’d ended up about twenty miles away from their intended campsite and all because she’d been holding the map upside down. “Besides, if it wasn’t for me you’d have only packed a tent, a pair of socks, and two cans of beans. I was the only one who thought ahead and packed everything we could have needed.” 

“And everything we didn’t need.”

“Oh shush or next time I won’t share my ponchos and insect repellent.” Hermione couldn’t keep the smile from her face. Even when Harry was teasing her he put her in a good mood.

“So things are going well with him?”

Hermione gave a small hum. “Very well, actually. Did you know he’s good with his hands?” Hermione blushed as she realized what she’d said. She could almost see the smirk on Harry’s face.

“Oh, really? And how is it you came to find this out.” 

“Not in that way! I just meant that he’s handy to have around. He changed out the cabinet door that Crookshanks broke last week in ten minutes. Last time it took me two hours.” She flicked a bit of water at the cat lying at the edge of her tub. Crookshanks opened one eye and turned around.

“Hopefully he won’t show up with take out tonight. You might propose,” Harry teased.

Hermione could only laugh at that. After one too many messy break ups she’d drunkenly announced after a party that she was going to make a list of requirements for any man she’d ever consider settling down with. Number one was to get along with her cat (which Fred easily managed considering her traitorous cat preferred him to his owner, largely due to slipping him pieces of food when he thought Hermione wasn’t looking). The second requirement was an understanding that Hermione was not and would never be the domestic type and would burn water if given the chance. This was followed closely by a love of take-out that equaled her own. 

And every year around the holidays, Hermione had dutifully gone back to add or subtract as needed, often times with the help of Harry, Neville, or Luna. (“Hermione, men just don’t wear suits anymore. If you’re optimistic you’ll get clean jeans and a button-up, but anything more and you’ll be alone forever.”) Last year she’d added ‘Willing to talk about something other than his father’ and ‘Not suggested as a ‘nice bloke’ and ‘dateable’ by Harry James Potter’ after the disastrous evening with Cormac McLaggen. This year she’d added handy with a hammer after Crookshanks had broken off three cabinet doors in the span of three weeks in retaliation for her working so late. 

“I can’t propose Harry, you know that. He doesn’t meet requirement number nine, wears glasses, nor does he meet requirement number eighteen, a love of Little Shop of Horrors.”

“Ah, poor lad. Since he fails in those regards I suppose you’ll have to toss him to the side one of these days. And here I was so eager to meet him.”

Hermione snorted at that. “Harry Potter, is that sarcasm I hear?”

Harry laughed. She could hear Neville’s voice in the background and picked up her wash cloth, squeezing soap into it as she waited for Harry to return to their conversation. Idly she wondered how Fred’s get-together was going with his school mates downstairs. She hadn’t heard anything break yet and muffled laughing was only heard every now and again. 

She heard Harry mention her name and strained to hear the conversation at the end of the line. She didn’t have to wait long until Harry returned to the phone. “Neville sends his love. And he tells you that you need to bring your new boyfriend over so we can run him around a bit.”

Hermione chuckled at that. “He’s not my boyfriend. We’ve only been on five dates.”

“Five and a half. You forget the time you bumped into him at the coffee shop and argued with him about the ethics of the Australian’s going to war against emus.” 

“Well it was an entirely valid question,” she argued, a bit embarrassed that they’d spent that long on a minor historical anomaly. “Besides, you and Neville needn’t worry. Crookshanks has been doing a good enough job of checking up on his background references. You should see the two together; poor thing has him eating out of his hand.”

“Really?” Hermione could hear the incredulity in Harry’s voice. “He has Crookshanks trained?” 

“No, I meant that Crookshanks has Fred trained. If I didn’t know any better I’d think the man kept asking me out to see my cat.”

Harry laughed. “It could always be worse you know. He could be after your left shoe. We had a bloke come in this week for questioning because women were accusing him of going on dates with them solely for the purpose of stealing their left shoe.”

“And what exactly is so wrong with my right shoe that it would be so neglected?”

“Bollocks if I know. But seriously, we should meet for dinner one of these nights. Things are finally starting to slow down at work now that we’ve gotten the first real freeze. People don’t seem to want to go out much when it’s below zero out. We could always meet up at that Italian place Nev’s always raving about.”

Hermione raised her eyebrow as she rinsed off her arms. “Italian? You’ve hated Italian since college. What did you do this time?”

Harry sighed, probably running his hand through his messy hair. “I might have forgotten an important dinner date and worked late on Tuesday.”

“Harry! You didn’t. Please tell me you didn’t miss going to see Alice.” Hermione could almost feel Harry wincing through the phone.

“And the worst part of it is that Alice asked where I was. I didn’t think she even remembered me at this point,” he added, mostly to himself.

“Poor Neville. Perhaps you could go again this weekend?”

“That’s the plan. Neville’s got some training he has to do for the school so it’s doubtful he’d make it. He’s barely started speaking to me again and I’m not sure what I can do to make things better.”

“The same thing you’ve always done, Harry. Be there for him and makes sure he takes care of himself,” Hermione told him, trying to find some way to comfort him. She pulled the drain and watched the water slowly swirl around.

Neville’s father had been diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s when he was eight; only two years later his mother had received the same diagnoses. Frank Longbottom had passed away eight years ago after a long bout with pneumonia. Alice was still as strong as ever and on good days her personality came through as bright as a torch on a winter’s night. On every other day it was a struggle for Neville each week he went to visit her, one that lasted well until the next day. It was one of those cosmic tragedies that Hermione still hadn’t forgiven the universe for regardless of how much his own experiences had helped her with her own mother.

The water finally drained out of the tub and Hermione stood up and carefully stepped out onto the cold tile. She grabbed her towel and began drying off. “What about Scotland? Weren’t you two talking about visiting the old castles up there?” Crookshanks began batting at the towel and she shooed him out the door. She hung up the towel before following him out into her adjoining bedroom.

“That’s actually not a bad idea.”

Hermione quirked an eyebrow. “When have I ever had a bad idea?” she asked him before pulling out her bedclothes, deciding on her new fleece pyjamas covered in cats (a belated gift from her Great Aunt Minnie up in Caithness, along with a book detailing of the legend of King Author and Merlin in England). “He’ll forgive you, Harry. Just like you’d forgive him.”

“I know he will but there shouldn’t be anything to forgive. It’s just been so easy lately to get caught up in the paperwork and all the little things that need to be done.”

“You’re only human Harry. You can’t catch all the bad guys by yourself. And regardless of what Kingsley tells you it is okay to take a break every now and then.”

Harry snorted. “This coming from the woman who would work eighty hours a week if given the opportunity.”

Hermione scowled and pulled on the maroon robe her mother had given her when she entered university. She brushed the golden lion on its breast pocket absently before tying the robe closed. “I got better. I only worked fifty two this week.”

“And you still didn’t get that promotion.”

Hermione sighed. She really didn’t want to get into this conversation again. She padded into the kitchen, intent on having a proper cup of tea before curling up with her new book.

“Kingsley asked about you again,” Harry continued. “The offer is still on the table if you’re interested.”

“I might be taking him up on that before long. There are rumors going around about layoffs.”

“There are always rumors about layoffs going around.”

“It came from Abbott in accounting this time,” Hermione told him, shoving her hand further into the cupboard for her peppermint tea. She came up with chamomile and set it aside. “I really think I might be the first. Umbridge is convinced I’m nothing more than a mouthy show off and Malfoy’s had it out for me since day one.”

“So jump ship and help come catch bad guys with me.”

“More like saving you from yourself,” Hermione muttered. She took the kettle from stove, taking care to side step Crookshanks. As she set about making her tea a knock came from the door

“That’s odd.”

“What is?”

“Someone just knocked at my door.”

“At this hour? Just ignore it. They’ll go away,” Harry told her, cautious as always.

“I doubt it’s your left shoe bogeyman at this hour.”

“It could be. There’s all sorts of strange men about after ten o’clock,” Harry warned her as she made her way to the living room, stopping to set her mug down on her coffee table. “Did I ever tell you about the man over near the Globe who went around knocking on people’s doors? If they didn’t answer he jimmied the lock and stole their mail. It really was quite odd.” 

“I doubt he’s at my door. Besides, I never get anything interesting in the mail.” She opened the door an inch to see Fred standing outside with a bag of take out in his hand. She unlatched the chain and let him in, holding up a finger to let him know she was almost done. “Harry, I’ll call you back tomorrow.”

“Why? Who was it? Do you need help? If you’re in danger say parsnip.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at his protective streak. “It was your mail burglar demanding all of my left shoes and threatening my silverware if I didn’t give it to him. I’ve decided to invite him in for tea and a scone instead and give a go at talking him down from it.” Fred looked at her in confusion and she shook her head at him. She pointed at her cup, asking silently if he wanted one. He nodded, still looking adorably confused, and dropped down on her couch. Crookshanks took the opportunity and bounded up into his lap, happy to finally be getting attention.

“It’s only my neighbor Harry,” she said as she walked into her kitchen. “And he’s come up with take-out. And not another word Harry James Potter,” she scolded as he began snickering. 

“Just be careful. And Neville says to call him tomorrow and update him. Apparently I don’t give him enough details or something.”

Hermione grabbed a mug and tea bag to busy herself while she finished up her conversation. “I promise I’ll call tomorrow. And I have an update on those rose bushes he’s been after, but they might come in earlier than expected. I’m not sure if he has room in his greenhouse. I might have to go over there and help him clean things out a bit.” 

“Are you trying to steal my boyfriend away from me?”

“Always. He is the only one who knows how to make a proper English breakfast.” Harry laughed; neither Harry nor Hermione had been able to determine what a proper English breakfast was despite Neville’s demonstrations over the years. “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Night Hermione. And if you need anything just ring.”

“Will do. Thanks Harry.” Tea properly made, Hermione walked into the living, mug in hand, and set the phone down in its cradle. She set the mug down in front of Fred who was leaning back against her couch with his eyes closed and shooed her cat away from the take out bag. She idly wondered whether he’d fallen asleep and began rummaging about in the bag, curious to see what he’d picked up. Though she wasn’t one to turn down free food she began to wonder about Fred’s sudden appearance in her door way. Wasn’t his get together tonight? Or had she just misheard him? 

She glanced over at him only to find him looking at her. She snatched her hand away from the take out bag feeling like the proverbial child with her hand in the cookie jar. Fred only smiled at her and reached for his own mug. 

“It’s peppermint,” she told him. “If you don’t like it I’ve got loads of other tea. Chamomile, herbal, green, Earl Grey.” 

Fred blew on his tea before taking a sip. “Peppermint’s fine.”

Hermione grabbed her own mug before sitting back in the loveseat and tucking her legs up under her. She took a small sip of her tea in an effort not to begin asking questions, the forefront at her mind being whether he’d abandoned her friends and if he had, why? For once she decided she would wait out her burning curiosity. Luckily she didn’t have to wait very long.

“I didn’t know if you’d eaten yet, so I grabbed something from down the road. Mum always told me it was rude to show up uninvited without bringing something over. Went to that curry place down the road you introduced me to though the owner wasn’t happy I’d come in so late. He threatened to ban me from the shop until I told him I was picking up something for you.” Fred chuckled a bit at the memory. “Once I mentioned your name he acted like Christmas had come early. Threw in enough to feed eight and some bread I don’t think he charged me for.”

Hermione laughed. She knew firsthand how enthusiastic her favorite restaurateur was. “That would be Mr. Dubois. Harry and I helped him out a few years ago after his son got into some trouble over a pair of silk socks. He’s always been so happy to see us since then but it really wasn’t a big deal. It was just a misunderstanding; once the socks were returned everyone was happy again.”

“That would explain his gushing over you and Harry.” Fred began taking the boxes out of the bag and set one down in front of each of them. “Do you want plates or are the boxes fine?”

“It’s fine like this, thanks.” She smiled and took a fork from him. She could get used to this kind of delivery service. “How was the party?” 

“Alright. Ducked out about halfway through. Too many people,” Fred told her as opened up his box. “George and Angelina announced their engagement tonight,” he added in an offhand manner.

“Really? I hadn’t thought they were that close. Well, my congratulations to them.”

Fred laughed but it rang hollow to her ears. “Didn’t even know he was planning to ask her to be honest.”

“That’s odd. I thought you and George were close.” 

“I did too.” Fred paused and moved his food around before taking a bite. “Glad I’m not the only one who thought so. Lee seemed to think I was taking the whole thing a bit hard considering it’s been ten years. It’s just more that the whole things a bit uncomfortable is all.” 

“Ten years since what?” 

Fred glanced at her before taking a large bite, curry dribbling down his chin. He grabbed a napkin and wiped it away, staring hard at his food. “Don’t know how much you want to hear seeing as how we’re –“ Fred paused and cleared his throat. He waved his fork around a bit, clearly unsure of how to put it. Instead of continuing he stabbed at his food. Hermione tilted her head and watched him. She found it interesting that she wasn’t the only one who was unsure as to what it was they were doing with each other. 

On the one hand, they had gotten rather close as friends, hanging out on weekends and running errands together. On the other hand, they’d snogged several times, once getting caught by Ms. Pomfrey across the way. She hadn’t been able to look her in the eye, afraid to see that knowing grin on the older woman’s face. Yet neither of them had used the word date nor had they solidified any terms of contact. It was relaxed and comfortable, and yet somehow Hermione had a feeling that if they sat down and spoke about things it would become terse conversations, fussing over how she looked, and scrutinizing over every word said and every move made.

Hermione shelved that train of thought for later analysis, preferably over a cup of tea and some mindless television program following young professionals who were more beautiful and far more hopeless than she was.

“Ang and I dated through secondary and most of university,” Fred told her easily enough.

“Oh.” Hermione’s eyebrows shot up. “That does complicate things.”

Fred snorted. “That’s putting it mildly.” Fred turned back to his food. 

She chewed thoughtfully, wondering what she would do in that situation. The only person who could come close enough to being her George would be Harry, but they never did have the same dating pool. And they certainly didn’t look like one another. Nor did they live together.

“How long have they been dating for?” 

Fred glanced up from sneaking a piece of lamb to her cat. No wonder he was getting so heavy. “About nine months, give or take.”

“That’s not long at all.” Hermione took another bite, unsure of how many questions she could ask before being deemed too nosy. “Does it bother you?”

Fred shrugged. “Honestly? Not really. It’s been years, and it’s not as if they were dating right after we’d broken up. As long as she makes him happy and treats him right why should I try to ruin it?”

“That’s very mature of you,” Hermione told him. “I don’t know if I’d feel the same if I was in your position.”

Fred gave her a small smile and returned to his food. They ate in silence, the occasional faint laughter reminding them of the party below. When she could stand it no more, Hermione offered to put the television on mostly to cut the silence between them. “Channel Four usually has a movie on around this time.”

“Sounds fantastic,” he told her and she could almost hear the relief in her voice. She relaxed at his soft smile as she realized his tension stemmed more from the party downstairs rather than anything she had said. 

Hermione grabbed the remote and turned on the telly, flipping over to find Conan the Barbarian. During commercial breaks, Fred began telling her about some of the pranks he and his brother used to play in school and she reluctantly admitted to him that it was unlikely that they’d have gotten along when they were younger. By the time the Eye of the Serpent had been stolen, the pair had finished eating and Fred offered to clean up, standing before Hermione could even protest.

“It’s really not a problem, love. I did barge in here uninvited after all,” he told her packing everything into the take out bag and heading towards the kitchen. 

When he came back, Hermione had arranged herself on the opposite end of the couch claiming that the love seat was at an odd angle to the TV. She watched as he settled back onto the couch, closer to the middle this time. Crookshanks, ever the opportunist, took the opportunity to jump onto Fred’s lap and curled up. 

Two commercial breaks later, Hermione had finally drawn up the courage to inch further down the couch. She glanced over only to find Fred slumped down in the corner of her couch fast asleep. Hermione yawned as the work week finally hit her. As she turned off the television a soft bass thumping rose to take its place. Apparently the party was still going strong downstairs and from what Fred had told her earlier it was unlikely to stop anytime soon.

Taking pity on the sleeping man and too tired herself to bother with waking him, she went to the hallway closet. She took the blanket and pillow normally kept for overnight guests out and draped the blanket over Fred’s lap. She left the pillow on the armrest next to him before turning off the lights and making her way towards her bedroom, leaving the door open just wide enough for Crookshanks to come to bed. 

xxxx

Fred woke up to darkness and gasping for air. Something was covering his mouth, blocking any air from coming in. As he sat up, he felt something small and heavy drop to his lap and he began heaving in deep breaths. He coughed and groped for his bedside lamp. Reaching only air, he looked around confused, unsure of where he’d ended up. 

He heard a soft thump followed by a woman’s voice groggy with sleep. “Ow, you ruddy cat. What was that for? It’s 3 a.m., any other sensible creature is sleeping.”

Fred’s breathing slowed. Apparently he’d fallen asleep at some point on Hermione’s couch. Soft sounds of laughter filtered in just on the edge of his hearing; apparently George’s surprise engagement party was still going on. He sighed and lay back down. He’d deal with George in the morning. For now, all he wanted was to sleep and maybe convince the woman in the next room to accompany him to brunch tomorrow.


	4. Coincidences

**19 November**

Hermione twisted the telephone cord around her fingers and glanced around the corner of her cubicle once more. She knew she was the only one left in the office but she’d been jumping at shadows all day. The news of layoffs hadn’t just been a rumor; they’d fired a man named Finch-Fletchley from IT earlier today and it hadn’t gone well. And ever since Malfoy’s promotion he’d been hanging around her cubicle more than ever. Hermione knew he was just waiting for her to commit some sort of error and pounce upon the opportunity to have her fired. Knowing him he’d find some way to twist her working late into some sordid tale of misusing the office supplies and telephones to construct her own deluded army bent on taking the firm right from under Dolores Umbridge. 

It was only Tuesday and it felt like it was the second longest week of her life.

“I really don’t understand why you’re working so late after how badly they’ve been treating you lately. It’s not like they seem to care whether the work gets down or not,” Harry groused, far more upset about her working conditions than she was. “I don’t see why you won’t just talk to Kingsley. They really need new investigators in the field and you’d be excellent for the job. And if that’s not what you want then there’s always outreach.”

Hermione bit her lip. She knew he was right but she still couldn’t forget Mr. Burke’s final words to her. He’d been convinced she could be the most brilliant lawyer in the firm and told her so on many occasions. Unfortunately he’d passed six months after she’d been hired and Dolores Umbridge had come in from an outside firm to take his place. Ever since then things had been more akin to a shark tank than a reputable law firm.

“Thanks Harry, but I should probably stick it out here until the inevitable. I’ve got so many cases that I need to wrap up and I know none of them will get the attention they deserve if I left so suddenly. Poor Parvati’s already swamped enough as it is with that new land case that came in I don’t want to leave her with all my cases as well.”

Harry sighed. “You can’t ever leave an assignment unfinished, can you?” 

She rolled her eyes at his affected tone. “Of course not. And you never complained when I finished your essays for you did you.”

“But that’s because they wouldn’t have gotten done without your brilliance,” he teased her. “Besides, if you don’t like it at least it’s something you could do in the meantime until you find something better. And at least it would get you out of that toxic place.” Harry paused and she could hear shuffling in the background. “And I could see you more. It’s like I haven’t seen you in years.” 

Hermione winced at that. “I have been a horrid friend lately, haven’t I? Always working and when I’m not I’m complaining about work to you or Nev.”

“Don’t forget gushing over Mr. Apartment 24B. At least I know where to look if he hurts you. But seriously, when are we going to get to see you again?”

“Whenever I can clear my desk off. I’m hoping for next week. I’ll make it up to you two soon, I promise.”  
“You’d better or Neville will have both our heads for not being around more.”

Hermione paused. “You’re not home yet?”

Harry coughed, trying to come up with some excuse, and Hermione smiled. “I’ve been backed up on paperwork since that big case with the skinhead gambling den up in Wembley. You wouldn’t believe some of the weird things people were betting. One guy put up boots claiming that they were actual dragon hide, if you can believe it. Another claimed he had a sword from Arthur himself. Said he got it when he pulled it out of a talking hat of all things.”

Hermione sat back in her chair content to listen to Harry ramble about his job. He was right though; it had been far too long since she’d been able to catch up with Neville and Harry in person. Harry was always running around saving people while Neville was so dedicated to teaching at the university and secondary level that it was hard to find times when they could get together. They’d always been together as long as she could remember and it was hard to think she was slowly drifting apart from them. 

“Harry?” Hermione said, interrupting Harry’s stream of consciousness, now moved onto the taboo of putting olives on gyros and whether it really mattered to his daily routine if Tonks insisted on ordering them.

“Yeah?”

“Are you free on Friday? I can see if Fred can come around. He should be done with his latest project by then.”  
“You sure? I thought you didn’t want us running him off too early.”

She chuckled at that. “Well, no I don’t. But it has been almost three months, if he was going to run off I’d assume he would have by now. Besides, it’ll be nice to see him at least once this week. I haven’t seen him since last Sunday. He and his brother have been cooped up in that studio of theirs for two weeks now.”

“That long? What on earth has he been doing?”

“Apparently they’re onto some big break through. I’d mentioned the science project Neville’s kids were able to get done, the one with the lemon juice and the batteries, and it was like a lightbulb had gone off. He jumped up, kissed me on the check, and ran out the door. Even took the plate with him,” she recounted. She almost would have called it cute if he hadn’t taken the plate with him. Now she had an uneven amount of plates and her dishwasher was never as full as it should be. “He’s been a bit dodgy on what exactly they’re doing, but apparently the contract they’re working under has a gag clause in it so I don’t think I’d even want to know.”

“From what you’ve told me about him I’m imagining a tall Irish Frankenstein running around cackling around a body made entirely up of lemons.”

“Harry, have I ever told you how odd and vivid your imagination can be at times?”

“Only since we were eleven and you learned what vivid meant. Strange he hasn’t called though.”

“Oh he might have. Crookshanks decided to play with the answering machine again and I haven’t gotten around to getting a new one. From what I can tell the timing is just off. When I get home there’s usually a note with a bad joke, an even worse pun, or the most horrible attempt at poetry tacked on my door.”

“Poetry? About what?” Harry said trying to contain his laughter at the thought.

“Let me see if I’ve got the latest one.” She reached into the drawer where she kept her purse and dug around for the yellow note paper. “Here it is. ‘My dearest, beautiful, fiery neighbor, I’ve missed your laughter so; My efforts were a bit of a labor, but I thought I’d give it a go. We’ve made a marvelous breakthrough, without you we’d have been a goner; Before your inspiration I was blue, but I hope I can repay you with, well here he’s crossed out the word dinner and replaced it with doner. On Monday he managed to make my name rhyme with ‘rhymey’ of all things.”

Harry snorted at the absurdity of the poem. “He managed to find a rhyme for your name? Wish I’d had him as a partner when we had forced poetry week.”

“Yes, it would have made things easier, wouldn’t it?”

“A bit fairer too. My name rhymes with loads of things, whereas yours is a bit unrhymey.”

“But you did have the easiest assignment when we studied Shakespeare.”

“That’s true enough.” Harry paused and she could hear muffled talking in the background. She took the interruption to begin to shut down her computer for the night. It was already 10:30 and she still needed to find something to eat. It wasn’t until she’d packed up her things that Harry came back on the line.

“Still on for dinner, say Saturday?”

“Sounds perfect. I think it’s your turn to pick this time,” she told him. 

“Not Italian. We’ve been eating it so much lately I think I’m about to turn into a tomato.” Hermione laughed at that. After he’d decided to win a pizza eating contest at uni, or more likely die trying, Harry didn’t have a taste for any type of Italian food anymore, authentic or not. Even the combination of tomato, cheese, and bread was enough to remind him of the three days of food poisoning he’d had to suffer through. Neville, on the other hand, loved all things Italian and Hermione was more than happy to be the stand-in for Neville’s many attempts to reeducate Harry about the culinary arts of Italy. “What about that pub near Westminster? Tonks is raving about it. Apparently it’s the only place to get a decent a meat near there.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”

“And Hermione?”

“Hm?”

“If you get dragged off in the middle of the night by a giant lemon creature, probably best to call animal control. I think that’s a bit out of our league,” he told her. She could hear a woman laughing in the background. 

“Thanks for your support Harry. I’ll keep that in mind.” Hermione replaced the phone in the cradle and turn back to her desk. The pile hadn’t gotten any smaller though she’d worked another four hours after closing. No matter how hard she worked it felt as if she’d never get ahead. Perhaps Harry was right and she should jump ship.

She shrugged into her coat jacket and pulled her gloves from the pocket as she headed towards the elevators, making lists of everything she would have to accomplish tomorrow. At the very least, she had Saturday to look forward to if she could only track down her neighbor and convince him to come. 

xxxx

**22 November**

Saturday found Hermione sitting across from Harry in a small, homey pub as she waited for Fred and Neville to appear. Yesterday, Malfoy had dumped three months of work onto her desk and demanded that it all be done before the end of the work day. Hermione had politely, yet firmly, told him that if he was to ever get anywhere in the world without using his father’s influence he might want to do his own work for once. Her words were thrown back at her later at the end of the week meeting as Umbridge gave her a stern talking to that all solicitors must pull their own weight and a lecture on how she should strive to be more like Malfoy. It was enough to drive her mad.

Regardless of Malfoy’s absurd demands, Hermione left earlier than she usually did, especially after being assigned new casework, to meet Parvati and Lavender at the pub for a late dinner. It had been a pleasant end to a difficult work week and she’d fallen asleep the moment she’d laid down last night. When she woke this morning her brain went into overdrive thinking back on what happened yesterday. Instead of letting it eat her up like she normally would, she refused to let Umbridge and her little ferret ruin her weekend despite her natural urge to run back to the office to tackle the large project waiting for her.

It wasn’t until two o’ clock that Hermione realized that today was the day her boys would interrogate Fred and hopefully not embarrass her too much. That thought alone was more than enough to send her into cardiac arrest. Her mind went into overdrive coming up with various scenarios, none of them ending well. They ranged from Harry acting the tough MP, brooding and glaring at everyone until he cuffed Fred and dragged him down to the station for some off color comment to Neville become fast friends with Fred only to gain his confidence and draw out any dark skeletons that might be hiding in his closet and laying them bare before her. Together they were a bigger threat to any relationship she’d ever had than Crookshanks could ever aspire to be.

Though she was happy that she and Fred had finally gotten to the stage to bring round to meet each other’s friends she still had her misgivings about whether Fred would be run off into the night. In an attempt to head Harry and Neville off at the pass, Hermione left early. Fred was still going strong at his studio uptown and they’d agreed it would be easiest to meet at the pub rather than try to coordinate the timing of meeting at the apartment building. Despite arriving twenty minutes early Harry had somehow managed to beat her to the pub. She was met with his smug grin and stalked towards the booth he’d chosen.

“Harry, why are you here so early?” she asked him despite knowing the answer. She unwound her scarf and took off her coat before sliding into the booth across from.

Harry only grinned and took a sip of his coffee. “Thought I could keep you company while you waited. You always were the most punctual one of us.”

Hermione frowned at him. “Yes, well, one of us had to be. You and Neville certainly aren’t,” she muttered. The waitress came to their table and Hermione ordered a tea hoping to calm her nerves. Harry didn’t seem to have much to say and Hermione was far too nervous to start a conversation. She began to reorganize the condiments that had been left on the table, first by size, then again by color, then a third time by alphabetical order. When she began to organize them by how much was left in the containers Harry took all of them from her and placed them on the table to his right. 

“I don’t know why you’re so worried. It’s not like Neville and I haven’t done this before,” he told her, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. “Though it is nice of you to be so nervous for us,” he teased, his lips pulling into a smile.

Hermione scowled at him and pulled her hands away. She picked up her napkin and began to fold it into squares to keep her hands busy. “I know you do. I’ve lost count of all the blokes you two have run off.” Running out of napkin she unfolded it and began to refold it into triangles. “And it’s not you I’m worried for,” she muttered. 

Harry laughed at her childish demeanor. “Don’t worry so much. If he’s half as great as you say he is I’m sure he and Neville will be fast friends before dinner’s over. On the other hand I’m obligated to hate his guts for at least a month,” he told her and she couldn’t help but smile at his protectiveness.

“But really, I do like him and I’d rather you not screw things up for me. I’m more than capable of doing that on my own,” she told him. The waitress came by with her tea and a top off for Harry. Attempting to change the subject away from the source of her nerves, Hermione mentioned the abnormally cold weather they’d been having and the even odder fog that had arrived with the storms. Both agreed it was odd but in London one shouldn’t be surprised if it began raining frogs. By the time Neville joined them Hermione had ripped two of the napkins that had been laid on the table and was beginning on a third.

“If you keep that up Borgin and Burkes will surely lose you to a rival shredding company. You’re far more efficient at it than the machine they’ve got at the school,” Neville said behind her. Hermione jumped, not realizing Neville had come up behind her, and scooted over to let him sit down in the booth next to her. She raised an eyebrow at the seating arrangement, one they’d used before as an intimidation tactic, but said nothing.

“What’s got you so wound up today? It’s not like there’s anything important going on,” Neville told her grinning from ear to ear. 

“You, for one. And ever since Malfoy dumped the rest of the Bukbek International file on me at 9:00 a.m. yesterday I’ve had to quash down the urge to run back to the office,” she responded. Neville winced as he recognized the client name from the papers.

“He’s still throwing his files onto your desk? I thought you said he couldn’t get away with that after they promoted.”

Hermione sighed and slumped down in her seat. “I thought he couldn’t but really it’s only gotten worse.” Harry gave her a lock and she narrowed her eyes at him. “And don’t you even start in about Kingsley’s offer Harry. I’ve thought about it and I’m fine where I’m at now.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond but was cut short as the waitress dropped off a basket of bread and took Neville’s order. She watched as Harry checked his watch and she glanced at hers hoping that Fred wasn’t running late. 

“Your beau isn’t here yet?” Neville asked as he reached for a piece of bread.

“No not yet. I believe that’s ten points from his total score,” Harry told him solemnly as he pulled a pen out from his jacket pocket to write on a napkin. “And here I was hoping someone would come in above a fifty for once.”

Hermione threw a piece of bread at him only for him to snatch it out of the air and take a bite out of it. “I’ll have you know that Neville is ten minutes early thank you. Besides, I’m sure the two of you will appreciate the time to come up with a plan.”

“And what makes you think we didn’t already come up with one before we left the house?” Neville asked innocently. 

Hermione groaned and laid her head on the table. “I really can’t win with you two can I?”

“Not if it involves men who aren’t us. If we let just any charming man sweep you off your feet where would that leave us?”

“In about the same place I’d imagine, just without my engaging and intelligent commentary to brighten up your lives,” Hermione returned dryly. 

Harry smiled behind his coffee cup and took a sip to keep from laughing. She knew he missed her and Neville’s exchanges, especially since it was getting harder to find a time for all three of them to be together like this. The bell above the door jingled but Neville and Hermione paid it no mind, more focused on teasing each other. Harry glanced up to find a tall red-head standing near the door and speaking with the waitress. He was glancing around as if looking for someone. 

“Er, Hermione?” he said. Hermione stopped chastising Neville mid-sentence for his taste in classroom pets (toads certainly weren’t appropriate for a secondary classroom) and looked at Harry. He pointed towards the man and she turned to perch on the edge of the seat to see over the both. “Is that him?”

Hermione spun back around to glare at Harry and Neville. “Be nice this time,” she hissed before turning back around and waving at the man. Harry and Neville only grinned at each other. As she turned back around she said “I mean it this time. No chasing anyone off today.”

“Who’s getting chased off?” Fred asked as he pulled his coat off and sat down next to Harry. 

“No one today,” she told him cheerfully. “Fred Weasley, this is Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom. Harry, Neville, this is my neighbor, Fred.” Harry coughed and used his mug to hide his smile as he heard her description of Fred. Her smile never wavered but if looks could maim he suspected an ambulance would have to be called. 

They exchanged light pleasantries about the weather and the restaurant until the waitress came by to tell them of the daily special and take their orders.

Almost the second the waitress turned away, Neville jumped on his chance to begin grilling the latest man in Hermione’s life. “So Fred, what is it that you do? Where do you come from? What’s your story?”

Hermione glanced at Neville knowing exactly what he was trying to do. To his credit, Fred only laughed. Hermione tried to ignore Harry making a mark on the napkin next to him and hoped that Fred didn’t ask what it was for.

“Well, grew up in Ottery St. Catchpole just outside Devon. Me and my brother are the middle of seven children, went to school in Leeds, and lately I’ve been working on a freelance project. Think we’ve finally gotten a breakthrough on it, no thanks to you I hear,” Fred told him grinning.

Neville’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Me?”

“Hermione mentioned some project you had your kids working on, using lemons as batteries and it sparked something I’d read about. Mentioned it to George and he managed to bang out the specs in a few hours. Brilliant, really.”

Hermione grinned as she took in Neville and Harry’s stunned faces. They hadn’t yet been thrown for a loop like that by any of her previous dates. “What about you two? Hermione said you teach,” he said to Neville before turning to Harry, “and you’re an MP?” 

Harry ran his hand through his hair and she could tell he wasn’t expecting it the question to be thrown back at him like that. “Investigative services, actually. We get the weird things you don’t normally hear about on the news.” He shifted, a bit uncomfortable about the attention being thrown on him suddenly. 

“And I teach unwilling teenagers about botany and biology,” Neville said, pulling Fred’s attention away from Harry. “On the first Sunday of the month I teach a class at the senior center about gardening and on the other Sundays of the month I garden in an attempt to beat my neighbor for the best yard. So far she’s been three steps ahead of me, but I really think I have it this year.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and tore off a piece of bread. “You say that every year, Nev.”

“Yes, but this year I really feel like I have a shot. The freeze took out her entire crop of rosebuds,” he told her, sounding far more excited about that than Hermione thought he should. 

“Also took out those tulips you’ve been working for months on,” Harry reminded him gently.

“Well, yes, but I’ve still got the dogwood,” he muttered. “Anyway,” he continued, waving away the loss of his tulips, “back to the point. I thought Hermione said you were an engineer. Have you switched over to something different?”

“I am, me and George both are actually. He’s the brain, doing the chemical and electrical bits, while I’m more hands on with the mechanical part of it. This particular project fell into our lap and we’ve been doing more of a consultant role in how to better the product, so to speak. It’s all very hush-hush though, so I’m afraid I can’t give you any more detail than that,” Fred told him. He leaned back as the waitress appeared suddenly and placed his food in front of him before returning to the kitchen for the rest.

“So what do you normally do then?” Harry asked.

“Oh a bit of this and that. Before this project we were doing contract work to improve a radiator system and testing the reliability of laptop cases against normal wear and tear. A bit boring really, mostly math formulas and doing the same thing over and over to try and get a different result,” Fred told them as the rest of their food was delivered.

Hermione picked up a chip and nibbled on it thoughtfully. “Isn’t there something about the insane doing the same thing over and over?” she asked.

Fred winked at her. “Probably why we get along so well. We’re too stubborn to admit that there’s a slight chance that we might be a bit off on our calculations.”

Neville snorted at that. “Did you know that this one here,” he pointed to Hermione “decided to protest every literature class we had from year 5 onward until they added more women authors to the syllabus? She did the same thing in all our science classes when she found out all the scientists we were studying were, and I quote, ‘Old white men of privilege.’” And with that, Harry and Neville began reminiscing about their school days with Hermione. She was all too happy to listen to them, offering corrections when needed and filling in details that were left out. Eventually they moved on to other topics and Fred told them stories of growing up and Harry let them in on the latest gossip at work (apparently Remus and Tonks had begun dancing around each other, which usually meant either that they had already slept together or wanted to but were too afraid to try for a relationship).

As they finished eating, Neville pointed his fork at Fred, still trying to remember where he knew him from. “I know I’ve heard your name somewhere before but for the life of me I cannot seem to place how I know it.”  
Fred glanced over at Hermione and swallowed a bit of food. “Hermione did mention you were a fan of my sisters'. She does tend to blame me and George a lot in interviews. Maybe that’s where you’ve heard it?” 

“No, it’s not from that. I’m sure it will come to me. In the meantime, I hope you’ll excuse me, but I need to run to the loo before we leave.”

“If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go too,” Hermione said as she scooted out of the booth. She threw one last glance at Fred before walking towards the back of the restaurant. 

Harry and Fred sat next to each other in awkward silence. They were in a conversational limbo, knowing just enough about each other to be unable to ask basic questions but not knowing enough to be able to hold a decent conversation. Neville’s words finally clicked in Harry’s mind and he had a sudden revelation.   
“Wait, Nev's right, I have heard of you before,” he said as he turned to look at Fred. Fred almost choked on the last bite of tiramisu, clearly not expecting the question. Harry raised an eyebrow at the odd reaction. He waited until Fred stopped coughing to continue. “Aren’t you part of Weasley’s Mechanical Wizards?”

“Yeah. Me and my brother began it about seven years ago,” Fred answered. He set his fork down on the plate and looked forward. 

“I should be thanking you then,” Harry said picking up his coffee cup.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“I came into a bit of money when I was about eighteen or so and I needed something to invest it in. A family friend suggested your company and I’ve done quite well through you.” 

Fred squinted at Harry as if he was trying to place him. “Wait a minute. You’re not H.J. Potter are you?”  
Harry only smiled and drank his coffee. Fred’s grin looked as if it was about to split his face. “You’re kidding me! Wait until I tell George about this. We were talking about the early days a few weeks ago and without you we wouldn’t be anywhere near where we are now. It’s not often people put their money into a business like ours and then put more money into a few years later when it’s about to belly up. Even Mum refused to help us out,” Fred gushed. “You really have no idea how grateful we are to you. We tried tracking you down but we couldn’t get past Mr. Moony who put us in touch with you.”

Harry laughed at that. “I wouldn’t imagine you would. Mr. Moony is actually my godfather and he’s been keeping my investments secret for years. Besides, the two of you are really working on some brilliant stuff. The magic you two did with the Kevlar vests and helmets has saved my arse a few more times than I care to admit. For that alone I’d have kept sending you two money.”

“Who are we sending money to now?” Hermione asked as she and Neville returned. 

“He’s one of the ones -” 

“Just talking a bit about business is all. Nothing important,” Fred interrupted. He waved off the look Harry sent him. “Besides, didn’t you want to make it back by nine? If we don’t leave soon we won’t make it.”

Hermione glanced at her watch, finding that they’d been at the restaurant for over two hours already. “It’s that late already? I’m afraid I need to make it back to Crooks to give him his medicine.”

“What’s wrong with the bloody cat now?” Harry asked, still not too fond of the cat after the last time Hermione had left it with them.

“Nothing serious. Somehow he’s managed to get an eye infection and if I don’t give him his medicine on time he whines the rest of the night,” she told them as she pulled her jacket on. “I really don’t know how he got an eye infection of all things, it’s not like he’s around other cats.”

“I’ve long ago stopped wondering about that cat of yours,” Neville commented, holding the door open. The bitter chill in the air convinced them that a quick goodbye was more welcome than dragging things out. 

Fred reached out to shake hands with Harry and Neville. “It was nice to finally meet the men Hermione’s been going on and on about. If I didn’t know you’d been friends for so long I might be jealous.” Hermione only rolled her eyes at his teasing. Harry didn’t miss the slight smile that accompanied it however. 

“And it was nice to meet the neighbor she’s been gushing about for months now,” Neville said. 

Hermione scowled at him through her blush. “I haven’t been gushing for months,” she muttered. Despite his teasing, she pulled Neville in for a quick hug, promising to come over soon and help him with his repotting. As she pulled Harry in for a hug, he whispered “Perhaps I won’t hate his guts for a full month. I’ll settle for a week or two at the most.” 

Hermione laughed at that and waved goodbye to them both. She and Fred turned and walked towards the Tube while Harry and Neville began walking in the opposite direction. 

“Why did Hermione want to talk to you?” Harry asked as soon as she was out of sight.

“What makes you think she wanted to talk to me?” Neville returned. He grinned and Harry knew she’d used the loo as an excuse to get Neville alone.

“Because the only reason she goes to the bathroom at the same time as anyone else is to corner them for information.”

Neville laughed. It had always been an odd habit of hers. “She wanted to know how I liked him and whether it was going as well as she thought it was.”

“And?”

“And I told her that I liked him well enough and that I believed it was going as well as it could be with the two of us there.” 

It was Harry’s turn to laugh. “It did go well didn’t it? The oddest thing about it though was he’s one of the ones running Weasley’s Mechanical Wizards, that company I invested in years ago.”

Neville stopped at that and snapped his fingers as the realization hit him. “I knew I'd heard that name from somewhere. It’s been splashed all of the business section as the biggest thing to hit the market since those damn Tamagotchi things that beep all over the school.”

“He just about choked on his dessert when I realized who he was,” Harry said. “Bit strange, actually.”

Neville waved off the behavior as he caught up to Harry. “Not really if you think about it. How many people do you think have come out of the woodwork to try and squeeze something out of him.”

Harry shrugged at that. He was well acquainted at how quickly people from your past could pop up if they thought they deserved something. “You don’t think Hermione knows do you?”

Neville shook his head. “Doubt it. After the mess with all those reporters when she was dating Krum I really don’t see her knowingly going into a relationship with someone in the public eye again regardless of how attractive he may be.” 

Harry hummed at that as he digested that piece of information. “He remembered me, you know.” Neville looked at Harry, eyebrow raised. “When I was looking for something to invest in to keep things from the Dursleys I somehow got wind of a pair of brothers who were trying to get some backers to produce a line of defensive items. I looked through their proposals and passed them off to Remus. He was really impressed with what they were doing and began a correspondence with them. With his go ahead I agreed to give them the costs for starting their business up front. Their new helmet design’s saved my skull a few times more than I care to admit.”

Neville nudged Harry. “Funny how small the world can be, isn’t it? Couldn’t make it up if you tried.” 

xxxx

As they neared their house, Neville was struck by how badly his dogwood bushes were looking. Perhaps they’d been planted too early this year. Luna had told him they probably wouldn’t make it through this season with the abnormally wet weather but he’d been determined to win the Garden Society Awards this year and he knew he couldn’t do so without having at least one flowering bush this spring. He’d have to suck up his pride and write to tell her she was correct – again – and ask her to order something more appropriate. He could only hope that it came in early enough so that he could plant it once the weather took a turn for the better.

“You don’t think he was worried about something else do you?” Harry asked as they approached their front gate.

“Hmm? Who was worried about what?” Harry hadn’t spoken in a few blocks. Neville knew it was likely that he was going back over everything that Fred had said and done and was evaluating it to make a decision about him. Out of the three of them, Harry had always been the most protective of Hermione and she of him. Despite it bothering him when he was younger, he eventually realized that they had a bond that was far different than the one he had with either of them. 

He really did need to repot those primroses though. 

“The business thing. Why wouldn’t he want Hermione to know how successful he’s been?” Harry asked as he went to open the gate.

“Probably for the same reason you never told me about your inheritance until five years ago. Money does strange things to people. You didn’t want anything to change between us and were scared it would be the elephant in the room. We lived together for three years before you even brought it up even though we’d been dating for five years and knowing each other practically our whole lives. You were worried all the time that someone would try and get close to you for the money like your aunt and uncle tried to,” Neville told him, stopping a minute to check that the door to his greenhouse was closed tightly. It was going to freeze tonight and he’d hate for all that work to go to waste from such a small oversight.

“I’d imagine Fred’s just about the same. From what I could tell he grew up without a lot of money and now that his face is splashed on the front page of every magazine calling him everything from a brilliant entrepreneur to the number one businessman to watch out for I wouldn’t be surprised if there are so many people trying to butter him up in any way they can to get something out of it. People come out of the woodwork for any bit of money.”

“That’s true enough,” Harry mumbled. A thought struck him and he paused, key in the lock, and looked at Neville. “You knew who he was all along didn’t you?” Neville only shrugged. “But you haven’t told Hermione yet?”

Neville rolled his eyes and reached around Harry to turn the key to open the door. “If she hasn’t figured it out on her own I’d hate to spoil it for her. Besides, I’ve seen how she acts when she knows a big secret. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so scared when she realized she’d spilled the beans about your inheritance.” 

“Wait, she told you? When?” Harry stopped in the entranceway and Neville had to budge past him to close the door against the wind. 

“She didn’t ever tell you? About a month and a half after you’d come into it you were having such a hard time with your family, then we hit that rough patch, and I think she was scared I’d break things off since you were acting so foul about everything,” Neville said, hanging his scarf and jacket on the coat rack. 

“It was after she failed that test she’d studied so hard for. You refused to go out so we decided to go out to the pub that night. We ended up drinking too much and ended up stumbling back towards the flat we were sharing. Then she just sits down in the middle of the road and starts bawling about how she was going to lose the both of us. Took me forever to get her back up to the flat before someone called the police,” he continued as he began climbing the stairs, Harry close behind him.

“The worst of it was when she started going on about how money was the root of all evil if you had too much of it. When I finally got her up the stairs she was so broken up about it I had to promise her that I wouldn’t do anything rash until I’d had a long talk with you about things. She wouldn’t let me go to sleep until I promised to do my best to work things out with you. Poor thing was so plastered she didn’t remember any of it in the morning.”

Harry paused at the top of the stairs and ran his hand through his hair. “So you knew before we’d ever moved in together?”

“Well, yeah. I suppose so.”

Harry paused and glanced at the steps before reaching the landing. “But you never mentioned it.”

Neville sighed and walked back towards the stairs. “Love, I knew it was something that you were uncomfortable sharing, especially after what your aunt and uncle did once you made it clear you weren’t going to give them anything. I figured it was just one of those things you had to work out before coming to me with it. I was more than happy to wait.” Neville paused as he reached out and took Harry’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “And if that’s what tore us apart then I didn’t deserve you.”

Harry gave him a quick smile but still looked as if he were concerned about something. “Even after knowing all that you still insisted on paying for everything,” he said almost accusingly. 

Neville only shrugged. “I take care of family, and despite whether this,” he motioned to the both of them, “worked out, you’re still one of the people I’m closest to in the world.” He reached over to brush Harry’s hair out of his eyes knowing it would just bounce back after his hand left. “Besides, if I didn’t spend it on you, Hermione would have gladly let me spend it on wine and curry for her. And Gran already had too many hats with strange birds and dusty fruit on them. Now come on, I’ve got teenagers to deal with in the morning and I’ll need all the rest I can get to deal with their witchcraft.” Harry laughed softly at that and began to move towards their bedroom. 

After they’d both gotten ready for bed, Harry told him, “I really don’t deserve you, you know that?”

Neville laughed and pulled the covers down. “No, you don’t. You deserve someone far better and with far more respectable hobbies than trying to beat helpless old ladies in gardening competitions and talking about the Krebs cycle to unsuspecting teenagers.” 

xxxxx

**12 December**

A few weeks after meeting with Harry and Neville for introductions, Hermione found herself snuggled up to Fred on one of the coldest days of the year, the wireless softly playing Christmas carols in the background. They’d been trading stories of growing up with each other for a while, his far more chaotic than hers had been.  
“What did you want to be when you grew up?” Fred asked.

She glanced up at him. She shifted to lean against him and drew her feet up onto the couch. “Promise not to laugh, but I always wanted to be a witch.”

“A what?” To his credit he managed to bite down on his chuckle before it escaped.

“I know it sounds a bit odd, but I was an only child so I got rather lonely growing up. Harry and Neville were really my only close friends until we got to secondary and they lived far enough away we couldn’t really play together after school. I convinced myself that the reason I didn’t have as many friends as Harry did was because I was different and had magic in me. Everyday I’d fetch the mail and look for my letter that said I was a witch and that I’d been missed when they made the rolls for school.”

“For witch school? Sounds a bit dangerous to me.”

“I’m sure it would be, but think of all the things you could do with it. I always dreamed of going to a school full of witches, probably somewhere up north where there weren’t a lot of people, and I’d have loads of friends all like me. They would have lots of wonderful adventures and we could save the witching world from an evil egomaniac,” she said, remembering fondly all the time she’d spent daydreaming about. 

“What about Harry and Neville though?”

Hermione waved the question away. “Of course they’d come with me. They’d get some sort of special exception to be there. It was my fantasy after all.” Her head moved as Fred chuckled at her frankness. “And then we’d end up running a shop that sold potions and books and I’d have my own familiar and teach people all sorts of things about magic.”

“Huh.” Fred thought about that for a moment before asking her “What sort of potions?”

“Oh all sorts. Potions for luck, potions to cure the flu or chickenpox, potions to give you courage, potions to cure lycanthropy -”

“Lycanthropy? Isn’t that werewolves and such?” She nodded. “I thought you said you wanted to be a witch?”

“Well yes, but witches aren’t the only creatures there. There would be elves, faeries, centaurs, dragons. Besides, werewolves are just people with a condition that affects them once a month.”

Fred laughed as he thought this over. “You know, my brother Charlie would probably love it in that world. Probably set his heart on taming dragons.”

Hermione smiled at that. “What did you want to be when you grew up?” she asked him.

“A spaceship.”

Her smile fell and was replaced by a confused frown. She turned to face him. “You mean an astronaut?”

Fred grinned at her. “No. I wanted to be a spaceship.”

“Really?” She faced forward as she thought about it. 

“Really,” he answered. “Mum had me tested after that, but all things came back as normal as could be expected.”

Hermione snorted at that. “Your mother sounds like a smart woman to have you tested like that. To be honest I was thinking about bringing you in for an adjustment, might knock some sense into you.”

“If it puts things into perspective, my brother Ron wanted to be the disposal in the sink,” Fred told her. She suspected it was more to get a reaction out of her than to actually share the information.

“Why on earth would he want to be that?” 

“Mum always cleared the plates out in the sink and he always claimed he wasn’t getting fed enough growing up,” he told her before leaning forward to pick up his glass to take a drink.

“Glad to know the appetite and the imagination runs in the family,” she said dryly. He only winked at her and sat back. Hermione stuck her tongue out at him childishly before leaning against him again. “She must have been a saint to deal with all of you if even half of what you’ve told me is true.”

“Would I ever lie to you?” he asked her seriously. The effect was ruined, however, by the mischievous look on his face. 

Hermione only raised her eyebrow. “Last week you told me the way they tested bridges by driving trucks that only increase in weight until it breaks, then they rebuild it and post the maximum weight for it.”

“I guess it’s a good thing you’re smart enough to know not to listen to me,” he teased. They fell into a comfortable silence, Bing Crosby’s crooning and the soft sound of snow on the window in the background. After a few minutes, Fred cleared his throat and shifted a bit before running his hand through his hair. 

“You, uh, you could always come and meet her, you know,” he muttered. Hermione sat up and turned to face him. “I know it’s a bit much to ask, but Mum’s have a party thing for George and Ang’s engagement after the hols are over. It’s only family but Mum’s been after me to meet you. It’s fine if you say no, the lot of us can be a bit intimidating,” he told her, fiddling with the glass still in his hand. “Bill, Fleur, and their kids can’t make it, but Percy’s bringing someone and Charlie’ll still be around from Christmas, then there’s Ron and his wife and kids, and Ginny will bring god only knows who. Then again, Aunt Muriel’s enough to make anyone want to say no to any Weasily family event, she’s a crazy old bat, but she’s always been around. Then there’s cousin Herman and his brood, we hardly ever see them but -”

Hermione put her hand on his, more to stop his rambling and bring his attention back to her. Once he looked at her (and she did have to admit the nervous look was highly attractive on him) she gave him her answer. “I’d love to.” She smiled at him and gave his hand a squeeze. 

Fred let out a breath and relaxed back into the couch, a soft smile on his face. 

“Besides, if Charlie is as attractive as you and half as exciting as you make him out to be then I might be able to upgrade,” she teased trying to get him to relax a bit more.

“Cheeky bird,” he growled as he gave her hand a light tug. She let him guide her closer to him to lay on his chest. “If you keep that up I might just send you and your cat his way.” 

Hermione could only laugh before kissing him soundly.


	5. Careers

**One week before Christmas**

Fred knocked on the door again and tried to ignore the voice telling him Hermione finally decided to toss him aside and search for someone better. His more logical side, sounding suspiciously like George and calling him a tosser, told him she'd most likely forgotten that they'd agreed to meet tonight instead of on Sunday. She had been acting rather odd in the past week, giving half-hearted responses and spacing out frequently. Fred was beginning to dread any sign that might point to the dreaded 'We need to talk' conversation he feared was coming at him with all the force of a train. He'd seen the signs before and Hermione had been the first girl in a long time that he'd been this interested in since the falling out with that girl from Brighton three years ago.

He shook himself, refusing to go down that old road of self-pity and loathing again and instead focused on the task at hand. He heard something move behind the door and Hermione opened the door just enough to peer out. From what Fred could see, she was clad in those ridiculous Spice Girl pajamas again, mascara tracks down her cheeks, and her hair flared out into what could at best be described as a lion's mane. Fred's heart dropped when he saw how miserable she was and any worry he might have had about being dumped switched over to worrying about her.

"Fred, I'm so sorry. I completely forgot we'd switched days." Hermione ran a hand through her hair and winced as it got stuck. She gave a mirthful laugh as she tried to untangle her hair. "Just another thing to add to the ever growing list of things gone wrong this week, I suppose." She opened the door and stepped aside to let him in.

Fred looked around in concern. In the short time he’d known her she hadn’t forgotten dates or time changes once. And her apartment had never looked as if a hurricane had hit. It rattled him more than he cared to admit to see her so out of sorts. He watched as she finally managed to free her hand from her hair and shut the door behind him. Crookshanks came bounding over to him and began winding between his legs and meowing for attention.

“Love, is everything alright?” he asked as he bent over to pick the cat up.

“Oh nothing horrible. Not like anyone’s died or anything,” she told him darkly. She crossed her arms and watched the snow falling outside. “It’s just been a bad day is all. I went to lunch with Parvati and Lavender today -”

“The two you work with, right? The ones at the bar the other night?” Fred asked as he scratched Crookshanks under the chin. Hermione glanced at him then looked away almost as if she were ashamed of what she was about to say. Fred swallowed and bit down on his growing fear.

“Yes. Well, we’d come back from lunch and when we tried to scan our badges none of them worked and we couldn’t get into the office. They’ve been working on updating the security system so we just thought it was a glitch at first. Finally the toad and her ferret show up ten minutes later and they were able to get in without a problem. Parvati went to follow that bastard but he slammed the door in her face, smirking like an evil little twit,” she told him, her voice taking on a nasally tone and pitching upwards in an imitation of him. “Employees only beyond this point, ladies. Can’t just let anyone in off the streets, what would father think?” 

Fred’s lips began to twitch up into a grin at that, still not understanding where her foul mood was coming from. “He’s really is a wanker, isn’t he?”

Hermione sighed and leaned against her couch. “You really have no idea. The worst of it is that he sent his little lap dog Parkinson out with three pink slips thirty minutes later. They refused to let us in to pack up our things, claiming they didn’t want any reprisal from disgruntled employees. They’ll only send them by post if we send them a formal letter describing each item, it’s location, and proof of purchase. Absolutely ridiculous really. And poor Lavender! Her only copy of the ultrasound is in there and they’re refusing to give her that. It’s absolutely horrible and none of us know what to do.”

Fred winced and set Crookshanks down on the back of the loveseat. He’d known for a while that she hated her job but he didn’t realize that any company would treat their companies this badly. He made a mental note to refuse any business with them regardless of how impressive Lee claimed their track record was. There were always more lawyers willing to charge indecent prices for a scrap of paper.

Hermione gave a small sniffle and Fred began to walk towards her. “And then my credit card’s been stolen by someone and I had to sit on hold for three hours only to be told by some horrible woman that the person who takes care of those things has gone on maternity leave and won’t be back for weeks. But do you want to know the funny thing about all this?” she asked as she looked up at him for the first time. He saw her lower lip begin to tremble and gathered her up in his arms.

“I didn’t cry the entire time we were sitting outside those big glass doors and it struck me that I’m going to have to start living outside of Picadilly and threaten to spoil the ending of new books unless people gave me money.” Fred made a face and wondered where on earth she came up with some of this stuff. Hermione sniffled again and he was happy that she couldn’t see his face.

“And I didn’t even cry when the bus splashed dirty, freezing water all over my new coat. Not one tear when I’d found out my credit card had been used to buy out a sex shop in Bath. Well, I mean it bothered me, don’t get me wrong, honestly of all things to use it for. Who needs that much leather and whips and vibrators? I doubt they’re filming a new Madonna video.” Fred snorted at that. Hermione pulled away just enough to glare at him and he tried to look as innocent as possible. 

“No, what finally set me off was coming home and opening the ice box only to find that he had gone through and eaten all of my ice cream in one go!” she whined, pointing venomously at Crookshanks lying on the couch.   
Fred bit his lip in a desperate attempt to keep from laughing but he couldn’t hid his shaking shoulders. 

Hermione pulled away from and made a face. “Oh, go on and laugh. It’s not as if it’s your ice cream you have to be worried about anymore,” she told him sourly.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all. “There’s really only one way to solve that problem then, isn’t there?” he asked. He tugged her towards the door. As soon as he’d heard about the day she’d had he’d decided that he couldn’t’ let his pseudo-not-quite-girlfriend-but-might-as-well-be lock herself up in her apartment on a Thursday night to wallow in her own misery. (After all she’d seen his ridiculous rabbit out of a hat tattoo last week and hadn’t made a single comment nor had she scolded him on making ridiculous bets on sporting matches after finding out it had been placed there after England lost to Italy in the World Cup last year. Instead she dutifully set to picking out every rose thorn that had jammed its way through his jeans and assured him that Neville wouldn’t be mad at him forever, everyone trips every now and then, but two or three months of groveling and complimenting his new apple trees would help matters along splendidly.) 

Hermione scowled at him. “Fred I’m in no mood to go out. I look horrible, I feel even worse, and I don’t have my galoshes are soaked through from earlier today.”

Fred picked up her trainers that had been left at the door and brought them over to where she sat sulking.   
“Easy way to solve that, love. If we come across any puddles I shall be gallant enough to lay down in front of you so that your delicate feet never touch dirty water again.” He sighed when she refused to budge. “If you go with me I promise we’ll get a curry and one of those old movies you love so much.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You hate those old movies though.” The last time she’d tried to get him to watch an old movie with her he ended up falling asleep ten minutes in and she had to give him an entire synopsis eight minutes before the big reveal. 

“And you love them,” he told her. He shoved the shoes into her hands and went back for her coat. When he turned he was happy to find her lacing up her trainers. He pulled out his knitted cap and walked across the room to her. When he reached her he gently pulled the knit cap over her head and tapper her chin.

“There, now no one will know you’re related to Simba,” he teased. She scowled at him and snatched her coat before stalking out the door. Fred only smiled. “Now come on, love. We’ve places to avoid, people to be, and food to eat.”

xxxx

Hermione followed Fred through the snow-covered pavement, scowling at his back and wondering if he'd notice her turning around and running back to bed. She wasn't scowling at him, exactly; it was more like she was scowling at the cosmic forces that decided to make this the worst Thursday of her existence. (The Thursday in Year 1 when she'd been cornered by the school bully, aptly named "Troll", didn't count she decided. She'd met Harry that day after he'd stood up to the monstrous girl in Year 5 and they'd been inseparable ever since.) Fred stopped suddenly and Hermione had to dodge to the right to avoid running into him, almost taking out a woman and her trolley.

Fred spun around and presented their destination with a flourish of his arms, much like a proud magician presenting his sawing the lady in half trick without drawing blood for the first time. Hermione looked up only to find bright neon lights blinking back at her.

"Tesco?" she asked in confusion.

"The only place for the true fine dining experience consisting entirely of junk food," Fred told her, pulling out a trolley.

"I was promised curry." Hermione crossed her arms. She hated shopping at the best of times and she doubted this shopping trip would go any better than any other.

"And a Weasley always keeps his word. This is just a pit stop for snacks to pep you up and biscuits that will make you feel as gay and light as a canary. Might even grow feathers if we're lucky."

Hermione couldn't help squealing as Fred picked up unexpectedly and placed her in the trolley. Fred had wheeled into the store and down the crisps aisle before she had a chance to crawl out. "Fred, what are you –"

"Shopping, my scowling buttercup, shopping. It's the only cure for when you've had a bad day." He held up two bags of crisps and shook them at her. "Original or barbeque?" Before Hermione could open her mouth, Fred had placed both bags onto her lap and began moving on to biscuit aisle. "Of course, what was I thinking? Why choose one when you can have both?"

"Chocolate biscuits check. Hobnobs, without a doubt. Jaffa cakes, lovely," Fred continued down the aisle, picking up boxes and packages seemingly at random. Hermione couldn't help but laugh at his single minded eagerness to cover her in the most unhealthy snacks he could find.

"Fred, Fred stop! Stop!" She managed to get out between giggles. Fred stopped and peered down at her, his brows furrowing with concern. She smiled at him before he could begin to doubt his plan of action and pointed to the shelf. "Don't forget the digestives; we'll need them after all of this."

He grinned at her and swept another four packages in the cart. "Brilliant. Did I ever tell you how brilliant you were?"

They continued on in this manner, going through each aisle and grabbing various foods without rhyme or reason. There was a small scuffle in the canned vegetable aisle when Hermione refused to have anything to do with canned tomatoes and Fred insisted they buy at least four cans. Every time she reached out of the cart to put one back on the shelf, Fred snuck two more in. It had taken them an entire ten minutes, and three scowls from the stock clerk that had begun to follow them around, until they'd finally moved on. It wasn't until they'd reached the frozen foods aisle that they truly came to blows for the first time in their burgeoning relationship.  
"And what, exactly, is wrong with vanilla?" Fred asked, his arms crossed in irritation. 

"It's so boring!” Hermione cried. She spread her arms wide and pointed to the other flavors in the cooler. “There's so many other flavors available and you want vanilla?" 

Fred crossed his arms and pouted at her, looking far more childish than his 32 years, largely due to the bright purple Captain Kangaroo sweatshirt he wore. "It's a perfectly respectable ice cream. It's got a proud lineage going back ages! Without it you wouldn't have sundaes or chocolate chip or ice cream sandwiches. It's the necessary glue that holds this entire aisle together."

"Oh please. It doesn't make any of those things better; vanilla needs those things to make it better. It's the most boring ice cream on the planet, everyone knows that!" Hermione told him, shaking her tub of Rocky Road at him. They both refused to budge on their stances on ice cream which led to the current standoff over which ice cream was best.

"It's not boring. It's only boring if the person eating it is boring, and I most certainly am not boring." He paused as an older woman came up next to them and began perusing the frozen dinners. She could almost see the light bulb come on over Fred's head as he turned to the woman.

"Excuses me, miss?" He flashed his most charming smile at the woman. Hermione was amused to see the woman, who had to be in her mid-sixties at least, blushing at the attention. "Would you consider vanilla ice cream boring?"

"Oh yes, I'm afraid so dear. It really is quite bland. I only ever eat it if there's chocolate or, er, strawberry syrup to go with it," the woman told him, her eyes flicking up at his disheveled hair. 

Fred visibly deflated and Hermione wasn't sure whether it was because she'd tipped the scales in Hermione's favor or because of the woman’s obvious attempt at flirting. The woman stepped towards him before asking if he was doing a survey. "I'm more than happy to give you my phone number if it will help you," she told him, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

Fred shot Hermione a panicked glance for help; Hermione only smirked back at him and leaned back against the biscuit pile, determined to enjoy the scene.

"Of a sort, yes. That was the only question though so I’m afraid no follow up is needed," he told her quickly.   
Fred grabbed the remaining three tubs of vanilla from the shelf and waved at a confused stock clerk. "That's my manager now, thanks again for participating. And remember, support your local co-op!" Fred began pushing the basket down the aisle. As he neared the stock clerk, he slowed down. Hermione recognized the stock clerk as the one from last week who'd suggested the '94 Pinot Noir to pair with the lamb stew cat food. She still wasn't sure if he'd been joking or not, but the shocked look on his face when she'd checked out with both had made it worth it.

Fred pointed back towards the woman. "Excuse me, but that woman there has been asking where the glow in the dark cheese is for the past half hour. We've looked in all the regular spots, behind the jalapenos and next to the breads, but we haven't had any luck. Help her out will you?"

Fred continued down the aisle and Hermione could see the stock clerk staring at her. She waved at him before calling out, "Thanks again on the pairing! It really did go well together, I've recommended it to all my friends. I'd love to hear your suggestion for the classic pate chicken dinner, still haven't found the right Riesling to match!"  
When they finally rounded the corner Hermione fell into another fit of giggles.

"You, my dear, have a wicked sense of humor," Fred told her grinning and fell in line to check out behind a mother and her small child. They both began laughing hard enough that the woman in front of them to turn and glare at them. Fred had to put his head down on the armrest and Hermione covered her mouth and looked away, trying her hardest to contain the bubbling laughter. Once he'd caught his breath, Fred lifted his head to look at her and they dissolved into fits of laughter once more.

Finally, the two were able to calm down enough to look at each other without laughing. After a few minutes the line moved and Hermione found herself at eye level with the Toblerones and the tabloids. She reached out and grabbed two boxes of the chocolate nougat and barely kept from toppling the shelving unit. As she reached out to steady it she glanced up to find familiar red hair splashed across the Mirror. It’s headline called out in bright yellow letters “Brilliant Entrepreneur Brother’s Budding Rivalry And The Woman Who Threatens to Tear It Apart.” Flyers advertising buy one get one for Hershey’s hid the man’s face from her.

“Fred?” she called out. He turned towards her, still making faces at the child in front of them. She pointed towards the magazine. “Can you hand me that? I want to see what it says.”

His hand darted out to grab the entire stack of tabloids and she sat up to try and get a better look. Fred only turned to keep the front cover away from her.

“Another sighting of Nessie on the shores of the Thames, this time with Bat Boy leading the way; the Royal Family’s Royal Secrets; Dragon Sighting in Romania; Flying Cars over Dresden; Flesh-Eating Horses Spotted in Scotland,” he read, keeping the magazine just out of her reach. “Nope, nothing here that minds as delicate as yours need to be reading. The last thing I need is for you to be seeing Nargles in the cupboards. Rubbish to rot your mind is all,” he tutted as he returned the magazines to the rack face down. “Though I wouldn’t be surprised if Charles does turn out to be BatBoy with those ears.” Hermione narrowed her eyes. He’d never hidden anything from her before so why start now with a trash news magazine?

Fred pushed the trolley up and began placing what he could reach on it. “Hand me those crisps and tomatoes, will you love?”

Any suspicions Hermione had about his odd behavior were quickly overtaken by her hatred of canned tomatoes. “Fred! Why did you put these back in here? I’m not paying for these evil things. Here, take them and put them back on the shelf!” She shoved the cans back into her hands. To her utter dismay he placed them back on the belt just out of her reach. “Fred, you know how I feel about them. We had a five minute conversation on how the world would be better without them.”

Fred only raised an eyebrow at her and pushed the tomatoes a little further from her reach. “Then it’s a good thing I’m paying for then, isn’t it.”

Hermione scowled and crossed her arms. “I’m perfectly capable of paying for my own groceries you know. I’m not destitute.”

Fred ignored her pouting and fished behind her back for the package of cheese he knew he’d thrown in there earlier. “I never said you were. Just think of it as my treat for letting me eat all your food these past few weeks and for humoring me tonight. Though I should stock your cupboards with nothing but tinned tomatoes due to your horrible taste in ice cream.” Finding the cheese he smiled triumphantly and threw it towards the ice cream. “And if you’re feeling particularly benevolent after I’ve filled you up with curry, chips, and the only decent ice cream known to man, I might even get you to say thank you.”

Hermione sighed loudly. She wasn’t used to people wanting to take care of her and she didn’t know how to feel about it. On the one hand she was grateful he’d gone so far out of his way to make her fill better (and fill up her pantry with something more than just Whiskers cat food and wine). On the other hand she hated being treated like a child.

Fred leaned against the trolley’s arm rest and watched her pout. He glanced up as the woman in front of the queue began to pay her bill. “You’d let Harry pay for it.”

Hermione scowled at him. “That’s different and you know it. We’re practically family and he owes me a million times over just for getting him through secondary.” She looked over at the belt finally beginning to move. “Besides, I’m not trying to shag him,” she added under her breath.

“Mummy,” a shrill voice rang out behind her. Hermione glanced over her shoulder to see the boy tugging on his mother’s coat. “What’s shag mean?” His mother turned and glared at her before dragging her child out the door, lecturing him not to listen in on other people’s conversations.

Hermione felt the blood run to her face and tugged the knit cap down over her eyes to avoid Fred’s laughter.

She really needed to work on her volume control. 

Xxxx

**29 December**

Hermione sighed and picked up the employment forms that Harry had brought over last night. After learning she’d been laid off he’d been adamant that she at least make a go of working with Kingsley to clear out some of their unsolved files while she looked for other work. Hermione had refused as long as she could until Harry pointed out that her rent still needed to be paid and her cat did need to eat every once in a while. She reluctantly agreed to go with Harry down to the station yesterday to see if the opening was still available.

What she didn’t expect was to be greeted with open arms by an overjoyed Kingsley and Tonks. Both had not so subtlety nudged her towards agreeing to come on board as a consultant for cold cases and Hermione let herself be swayed by their flattering words and kind praise. Their eagerness to have her aboard was a pleasant contrast to the stiff formality and condescension at Borgin & Burkes and she agreed after only an hour of being there. After all, she’d been Harry’s sounding board for his cases ever since he’d started and now she’d be getting paid for her insights.

On the way back to her flat, Harry commented that Kingsley was still apologizing for his actions when he’d found out Harry was speaking to her about his cases almost seven years ago. Back then Harry was the newest recruit and as such was stuck with the slower night shifts where there was often little to do but go through old case files. He’d gotten into the habit of calling Hermione during his breaks to check in with her as they weren’t able to see each other due to his late shifts and her long hours.

At first they’d restricted their chats to catching up with each other. As Harry went deeper into some of the older files, however, he began to use her as a sounding board vent his frustration about how things never quite fit together and why certain questions where never answered. Hermione was more than happy to help him and found herself looking forward to speaking with him while she ate a late dinner. Between the two of them they were able to find overlooked areas and come up with different viewpoints and with her expertise Harry gained a greater understanding of how to best present evidence to the prosecutor to get him to take up the case. 

It wasn’t long until Harry began to call Hermione up during working hours to help with some of the more active cases. When a highly publicized case came in a year later, Harry rang her up for help in trying to figure out why things weren’t adding up in his mind. After all, it wasn’t every day that a Parliament member’s son was kidnapped by a former chief of police especially when they’d never met before. Unfortunately for Harry, Kingsley picked up the phone and overheard Harry giving out highly restricted information to an unknown person on the other line.

The line had been cut off and while it was odd it wasn’t the first time Harry had hung up on her. Hermione didn’t give it a second thought until a knock came and she’d opened the door only to find a plain clothes officer with mauve hair and multiple piercings twirling a pair of handcuffs on her finger. Luckily, Hermione had avoided being dragged out of her old apartment in handcuffs. It wasn’t until she was being driven to the station that she realized they were in far more trouble than Tonks was letting on.

Once she’d arrived, Kingsley sat them both down in his office and lectured them for over an hour on the importance of confidentiality and discretion. Poor Harry had already been dressed down for giving information out to an unknown person who had not undergone a background check first. Thought both understood Kingsley’s fear of a potential leak of information and the possible destruction of years of work, Harry listened only half-heartedly as his career was crumbling in front of him. Hermione on the other hand was caught up in something Tonks had said about coincidences on the way over, her brain working overtime as she tried to find some way to save Harry’s career.

The minute Kingsley paused for long enough to get a word in, Hermione launched into what she’d been able to figure out about the missing person case and requested that they go back over the bank statements for any purchases made after Mr. Moody had been taken into custody. If she was correct then the kidnapper was much closer to the Sr. Mr. Crouch than even Harry had suspected. Kingsley’s face darkened in anger as he realized that she was privy to far more information than Harry had previously let on and Hermione silently prayed that she was right.

Luckily Tonks had given her idea far more weight than Kingsley and had rushed out the door to check the file. Minutes later she’d returned with a two-month old bank statement showing that someone had used Mr. Moody’s card at the Savoy Hotel less than a week after he’d been taken into custody and it appeared that the person had been staying there ever since. Alarmed at missing something so significant, Kingsley warned the both of them against moving a muscle and brought in a cadet to watch them while he and Tonks went to investigate. 

Four hours and a thousand and three apologies from Hermione to Harry later, Kingsley and Tonks returned with a man in handcuffs. For a moment, Hermione thought she’d been wrong in her theory as the man looked far too much like a BBC actor but the resemblance vanished the moment he sneered at her. As it turned out, Crouch Jr. had staged a kidnapping implicating Mr. Moody in revenge for being detained a year earlier for his connections to a murder. 

Ever since that night Kingsley had been the first to suggest that Hermione be called when their investigations had hit a dead end and he’d been bounding Harry to convince her to come on as a full time investigator. Up until last week Hermione had refused and held out for a position as the lead solicitor for Borgin and Burks international cases. Not that that particular career aspiration had done much for her in the long run.

A knock at the door brought Hermione away from the clearance forms. She glanced at the clock and found that it was only 4:50; Fred wouldn’t be by until well after six tonight. Guessing that it was Harry stopping by to drop off more forms and the case file on another missing persons file, Hermione was surprised to find Angelina standing outside her door. They hadn’t spoken except for a few times they’d bumped into each other outside of the apartment building or when Hermione stopped by to see Fred downstairs.

Angelina gave a small waved and smiled at her. “ ‘lo Hermione. Hope you don’t mind me popping up like this but I’m afraid I’m locked out. You wouldn’t mind if I used your phone, would you?”

Hermione returned her smile and stepped back to let her in. “Not at all. Just mind Crookshanks, he’s been absolutely foul lately since I won’t let him watch his shows.” Angelina gave her an odd look but made no comment and took the portable phone. Hermione sat back down at her dining table to fill out a few more of the boxes in an attempt to give her some privacy. 

Angelina stood by the door and punched in the number. “George, it’s Ang,” she said after a minute. “I'm locked out and your spare key's gone missing so I can’t get to those forms you want. I’ll try to ring again in a bit, I’m on Hermione’s phone now,” she told the answering machine. She hung up the phone and placed it back on the charger.

“You could always stay here until George or Fred gets back. It’s not a bother,” Hermione offered.

Angelina played with a strand of long dark hair as she thought about it. “You seem like your busy and I really wouldn’t want to impose.”

Hermione shook her head and gave her another smile. “Really it’s not a problem. I’d like the company actually.” Angelina gave her a tight smile and perched on the edge of the couch. “Would you like something to drink? I’ve got tea or coffee. Or wine if you’d prefer.”

“Tea’s fine, thanks.”

“The remote should be on the arm,” Hermione called out as she walked towards the kitchen. “If not check between the cushions.”

Hermione busied herself in the kitchen to give Angelina a bit of time to relax and make herself comfortable. She’d always seemed stiff and quiet whenever Hermione had seen her and Hermione wasn’t sure whether it was because she was dating Fred or because Angelina didn’t like her. Taking the kettle off, Hermione smiled as the sounds of a popular TV game show filtered through. She brought two mugs out and set one in front of Angelina before returning to the table to try and finish the employment forms.

“Do you think he hates me?” Angelina asked with a soft voice. Hermione looked up to see her staring at her tea, hair falling across her face.

“Fred?” Angelina nodded. Hermione thought about it before responding. “I don’t think so. At least not from what he’s said. Why do you think he does?”

Angelina glanced at her before picking up her tea. She blew on it before taking a sip. “Things have changed between us. Before the engagement it was almost as if we were friends again. Now it’s like he’s trying to avoid me.” 

Hermione sighed. It really wasn’t her place to say anything but it seemed as if she was caught in the middle. “From what I can tell it’s nothing to do you with you. He seems more frustrated with George for keeping everything a secret from him. He’s more put out by that than anything you may have done,” she told her, unsure if she was willing to wade into waters that she had no business being in. “You really should talk to him about it. I think he misses you and Lee, but he’s not sure how to go about things.”

Angelina smiled softly at that. “I miss him too. And I miss how he and George were. I broke it off with Fred in uni because we just didn’t fit together. I think I put that off longer than I should have because I was so afraid of losing not just Fred but George and Lee too. Did you know I hadn’t seen them until a few years ago?” she asked. Hermione shook her head but it seemed like Angelina was talking more to herself at this point. “It wasn’t until I ran until Lee that everything was like it was before Fred and I started dating. I really regret missing out on that time with them.”

Hermione paused, unsure of what to say to that. “Why don’t you talk to him? He’ll be over for dinner tonight and so long as you don’t mind overcooked spaghetti I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you joining us. I’d like to get to know you better too.”

Angelina hesitated and Hermione could see the uncertainty in her face. “Are you sure? It just seems like I’d be intruding. I’m not really sure where our relationship stands anymore with me being the ex-girlfriend, soon to be sister-in-law.”

“I’m sure. Besides, if he puts up a fight we can just kick him out and have a girl’s night in. I haven’t had one of those in a while,” Hermione assured her. For the first time since she’d come in Angelina gave her a real smile and Hermione was beginning to think they might even become friends. 

“Now, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but do you know anything about the rumors that David Beckham and Posh Spice are dating? I’ve been so out of the loop with work that this is complete news to me.” 

xxxx

**31 December**

Hermione checked her overnight bag one last time to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. Finding that everything was in order, she shifted the bag full of books a bit further up her shoulder and slipped out the door and locked it behind her. She’d already made sure that Crookshanks had enough water and food to last through the night and she couldn’t think of anything else she might have forgotten. As she began to walk through the stairwell Fred came around the corner. 

“Just the person I wanted to see,” he said as he leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.

“Hello Fred. How are you?” 

“Even lovelier now that you’ve brightened my day,” he told her. A blush rose to her cheeks and she was surprised at how his compliments still affected her. “And where are you off to this time?”

“My dad’s,” she told him, stopping to shift the book bag to her other shoulder. “We spend every New Year’s together and it’s his turn to host this year. What about you?”

Fred shrugged and scratched the back of his neck. “Actually I was coming up to see if you had any plans for tonight. Lee always throws a big party for New Years and I was hoping you could come with me after dinner tonight.”

She smiled at his offer. “Any other day I’d love to say yes but I can’t leave him alone at the holidays.” As much as she wanted to spend time with Fred it was always hard for her father this time of year. “You could always come and have lunch with us,” she offered as they headed towards the stair well. “If we can time it right you can make still make it to Lee’s to see the ball drop.”

“You don’t think he’d mind?” Fred asked as he began down the stairs.

“Not at all. He actually asked if I could bring you and I was on my way to see if you wanted to come.”

Fred brightened at that. “Really? Well, let me tell George and we’ll can be off."

xxxxx 

**16 January**

Hermione shifted in the desk chair and tried to ignore the heat running along her back from where Fred was leaning over her. She glanced up at him only to find him squinting at the computer screen. She cleared her throat and tried to push away the fluttering in her chest. Tracing the columns with her pen she noted the areas that she’d edited.

“This is where you’ve gone wrong with your wording in the contract. You’ve got the basic facts and outlines of applicable words but words don’t always mean the same in the statutes as they do in the real world so I’ve gone ahead and corrected those.” 

She felt Fred move away from her and she cleared her throat again to hide her disappointment. Her breath hitched as he leaned closer to her a moment later, his hand an inch away from where hers rested on the desk.  
“And you’ve lost the thread of your argument here and picked it up a page later, so I’ve rewritten it so that it reads better. I’ve tweaked the document overall and added in some suggested language, that’s in red. It should help when you present it to the council regarding plot development, but I’ll warn you now that it’s rather dense. They haven’t updated the codes in ages and unfortunately the crux of your argument relies on obscure precedent which is what these books are for. I’ve cross-referenced the areas you should focus on with the books and included applicable page numbers to point you in the right direction.”

Fred chuckled softly behind her and she felt a shiver run down her spine. “Are you always this thorough?”

“Of course,” she told him in a haughty voice. “It’s really the only proper way to get anything done.” Fred straightened and Hermione spun in her chair to face him. "Otherwise everything will just turn to …” She trailed off as she looked at Fred’s face. “Glasses,” she thought accusingly. “Of course you would wear glasses.” 

Fred raised an eyebrow and she realized she’d spoken out loud. “You wear glasses?” she asked in a friendlier tone.

Fred ran a hand through his hair and looked away, shifting so that his body faced the wall. “They do tend to help me see sometimes.”

“Ah.” She stared at him, unused to seeing him in glasses, and he shifted his weight at her attention.

“Didn’t actually need them until I was about twelve and couldn’t read anything without having it  
an inch away. Mum made me get them. Percy was thrilled when he found out I needed them and still gives me hell about it,” Fred told her. He reached up to slip the glasses off his nose and Hermione lifted her hand to stop him.

“I always have had a thing for men in glasses,” she admitted. Heat rushed into her cheeks and she decided it was best not to mention that it had been a bespectacled Gregory Peck that had first caught her attention when she was twelve, an attraction that was only further solidified when she’d seen Colin Firth sporting thin black rims on the telly a week later. Actually, now that she thought of it, almost every man that she’d seriously dated wore some sort of glasses.

Fred seemed to take her admission rather well and gave her a wolfish grin. “Really? I should have guessed.”

Hermione gave a small cough and spun back towards the screen before she turned any redder. “And this is a really tricky part so you’ll have to pay particular attention to how you word things,” she told him, letting her breath catch this time as he settled against her back again, this time bringing his hand to cover her own. “ 

xxxxx

**29 January**

Hermione closed the file she’d been looking over to glance at the cooler in the back seat. There was another hour and a half ahead of them before they reached Devon and she began to wonder if she’d packed it in enough ice to keep. After finally getting her grandmother’s recipe for pork and sweet potatoes right she’d hate for her efforts to spoil. She’d attempted the dish five times since New Year’s and it wasn’t until the last two times that she felt she finally managed to do it justice. (Poor George had been the guinea pig for her first attempts. After a day and a half of indigestion he’d refused to eat anymore of her cooking despite Angelina’s assurances that the later tries wouldn’t kill him.) 

“It’s not exactly a traditional English dish. They could hate it, you know,” she told Fred, watching his face to try and figure out his opinion. Odd as it was, Hermione was far more worried about how well his family would like her grandmother’s signature dish rather than how well they liked her.

Fred grinned at her before looking back at the road. “I doubt they’ll hate it. Besides, if things do go south and it’s like your first batch it will be just like Ginny’s first time cooking. The first time she tried to make a casserole everyone was too busy fighting to get to the loo first no one paid any attention to much else.”

Hermione scowled at his attempts to make her feel better; her nerves were frayed enough without his teasing. She flipped the radio over to a soft rock station and leaned back in her seat. In the five months they’d been dating the only conversation they had about music was whether Madonna really was the harbinger of a revival of post-war commercialism and consumer driven market. So it was a surprise to find out that Fred was a die-hard fan of Bowie and Queen and that his tendencies leaned more towards pop-punk and post-grunge, two genres that she’d always made fun of for attempting to be a ‘harder’ version of boy bands. For his part, Fred pretended at mock horror when she admitted to an almost obsessive adoration of American folk-rock, Tracy Chapman, and The Fugees. Needless to say it only took them twenty minutes to decide that it was easier to leave the radio on the news channel rather than quarrel every ten minutes about what station to listen to.

She glanced at the file in her lap once more before leaning back and closing her eyes. Despite pouring over it for more than a week she still had nothing more to add on who might have stolen this particular rock. From what Hermione could tell it was nothing more than another river rock but rumors persisted that it might be the legendary philosopher’s stone. Because of it the stone had gained a certain notoriety over the years that gave it more value than it was worth. Visions of being used as a castle in a game of chess, flying keys, and fire doorways flitted behind her eyes before she felt Fred shaking her shoulder to awaken her.

“Love, we’re here.” Hermione blinked at him and covered a yawn, a bit disorientated at falling asleep on the road. 

Fred stepped out of the car and towards the bonnet while she began to gather what she’d brought with her in the front of the car. As she stepped out of the car and removed the ice chest from the back, Hermione glanced towards the house that Fred affectionately referred to as ‘The Burrow.’ She had to stop and take a second look, her head tilted to the side as her brain tried to wrap itself around the impossibly tall, impossibly tilted building. After looking at it for a few minutes Hermione still wasn’t sure whether it was in danger of toppling over or collapsing in on itself. 

“This is where you grew up?” she asked with a note of concern in her voice. Fred glanced at her and chuckled, used to the shocked reaction of visitors. “How on earth is it still standing?”

Fred only shrugged and slammed the bonnet closed. “Duct tape and hope mostly. Or at least that’s what Bill and Charlie always told us.” Fred opened the gate and she followed him through, still trying to figure out how the building could defy gravity enough to stay upright. He opened the door to a mud room and sat their bags down on the bench before announcing his entrance. 

“Mum! Your favorite son has returned home and he’s brought company.”

Hermione followed his lead and set her ice chest and brief case down as she glanced around the room. It was old and filled with a variety of items that looked as if they’d seen better days. Sleds, rakes, and brooms lined the walls while a row of shelving along the top of the room was packed with garden gnomes.

Fred glanced up to where she was looking and smiled. “Dad’s been collecting things like that for ages. Growing up he had an entire trunk filled with spark plugs and carburetors that he hid in me and George’s room so Mum wouldn’t find them. A few years back he began to collect rubber ducks until Mum got mad about finding them all over the house. Last year he started collecting garden gnomes. No idea how he picks things to collect but it does make Christmas and birthdays much easier.”

Hermione gave a small laugh at that. “The only thing Dad’s ever collected is old books and dills.” 

Fred raised an eyebrow as he hung up his coat. “Drills?”

“He and Mum were dentists,” she told him.

Once they’d slipped out of their coats and scarves they picked up their bags and Fred ushered Hermione inside. “Mum, where are you?” he called out. As they walked through the entry way into the living room they were met by a round older woman whose red hair was flecked with grey.

“Oh you must be Hermione,” the woman said. She stepped forward and Hermione up into a hug. “I hope you don’t mind but we’re huggers around here.” The woman then held Hermione out at arm’s length to inspect her and she nodded once as if she'd meet her expectations. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, my dear. Fred’s been talking about nothing else but you and that strange contraption he’s been working on lately.” 

Hermione glanced at Fred and raised an eyebrow at him as his mother took the ice chest from her and handed it to him. He only coughed and took the ice chest from his mother, his red ears the only thing giving away his embarrassment.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione told her. “I hope you don’t mind, but I brought a bottle of wine for you and your husband,” she said as she pulled out the wine Neville had raved about for so long. 

“Oh call me Molly dear. And you really didn’t have to do that. I’m sure it’s lovely,” Mrs. Weasley told her as she handed the bottle off to Fred. He had to juggle the bags over to the arm holding the ice chest to get a good grip on the bottle. “Fred didn’t mention how thin you were, though. I’ve just pulled some pie out of the oven, we’ll see if we can put some meat on those bones while you’re here.”

Fred rolled his eyes behind his mother’s back. “Mum, you say everyone’s too thin.”

Mrs. Weasley turned to face her son and put her hands on her hips and Hermione covered her smile. “That’s because everyone now a days is so obsessed with staying thin. It’s practically a national crisis. Now, where’s your brother at?” Fred grinned before asking her which one she meant. Mrs. Weasley scowled at him, far too used to that game. “You know exactly which brother I mean Frederick Gideon Weasley. I thought he and Angelina were coming up with you two today.”

‘Gideon?’ Hermione mouthed at Fred who only turned redder at her teasing.

“Ang had to work late again today. Apparently one of her patients went into labor earlier than expected yesterday so they’ll try to come down before lunch tomorrow.”

A door slammed behind Hermione and she tried not to jump at the sudden noise. A woman’s voice rang out from the mudroom, followed shortly after by a younger woman.

“Mum, your favorite child is home.”

Mrs. Weasley bustled towards the young woman and engulfed her in a rib shattering hug. “Ginny, my love, how are you?” she asked, taking the woman’s bag from her and handing it to Fred. “How was the trip? It wasn’t too icy was it? You know how I worry.”

Ginny only rolled her eyes at her mother’s questions and Hermione was struck by the family resemblance. “I’m fine Mum. The trip was long and boring, but I did meet the most interesting woman on the train. Claimed she was a seer and that I was destined to meet a man with lightening in his face. A bit odd, really.”

Spying Hermione, a grin overtook the exasperation on her face and Ginny took the opportunity to slip out of her mother’s embrace. “And you must be Hermione. My dear brother her has talked about nothing but you and your cat,” she said as she gave her a wink. 

Hermione blushed at the double entendre and glanced at Mrs. Weasley to see her reaction. To her relief the Weasley matron didn’t notice. “Ginny, I’m guessing?” Hermione asked as she raised her hand to shake.

Ginny nodded and ignored her hand to bring Hermione in for a hug. “I’m sure Mum’s already mentioned it but we hug around here. You haven’t gotten the tour yet have you?” She asked excitedly. Hermione shook her head and Ginny handed her briefcase to Fred before pulling her towards the dining room. Hermione glanced at Fred who had begun to walk up the staircase.

“Mum, absolutely corking to see you too! And Ginny, thanks so much for asking, things have been going great for me as well, so glad you remembered me this time,” Fred said loudly as he began to walk up the stairs. Ginny only rolled her eyes and Mrs. Weasley swatted at him with the towel before following him up the stairs. Hermione laughed and followed Ginny into the dining room.

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you all the horror stories about growing up with that one. You’d never believe the amount of trouble he and George would get up to. And I can tell you even more tonight. You’ll be bunking with me in my room,” Ginny told her. “Mum doesn’t trust Fred to keep his hands to himself, so he’ll be bunking in his old room tonight.” 

“Now, this is the dining room. Over there is where George and Fred decided to dye my hair a horrible shade of blue right before prom,” Ginny told her excitedly before moving onto the kitchen. “And in here is where Charlie convinced George that the moon really was made of cheese and that if George didn’t leave out a piece of cheese for the mice every night he’d been taken away by the aliens that lived in the moon.”

As Hermione followed Ginny through the house she began to realize what Fred had meant earlier about his family. It seemed as though there was enough that had happened in this house that no one would be surprised at anything anymore, least of all whether her potatoes were cooked properly.

Xxxx

After a slice of Mrs. Weasley’s treacle pie and the Weasley Family Tour (as Ginny affectionately called it), Hermione and Ginny were set to work on table decorations while Fred and his father began to set up heaters outside under a large white tent. According to Ginny the tent had been used for every family event ever since her parents had gotten married.

“I thought this was supposed to be a family event?” Hermione asked as she wrapped a lavender and sky blue ribbon around a mason jar. She glanced up at Mrs. Weasley walking through to the kitchen before curling the ribbon around her finger. 

Ginny snorted and clipped the ends off of a flowering quince. “That’s what it was two weeks ago before Mum decided to invite anyone who’s ever met George or Angelina. She’s been so surprised that George is getting married she’s invited everyone in a twenty mile radius. Though to be honest with you I doubt she ever expected either of them to get married. The only thing on their minds for the past fifteen years is getting their shop up and running. Mum even threatened an intervention if they didn’t stop working eighty hour weeks.”

“Glad to know I’m not the only one who was threatened with an intervention,” Hermione told her as she finished off an intricate bow and set the mason jar in front of Ginny. She watched as Ginny threw in a handful of colorful rocks before setting the sprig and a few snowdrops in the jar. “My friends threatened to force me on a holiday when they found out I was working seventy hours a week last year.”

Ginny gave a low whistle. “What on earth do you do? Work at a hospital?”

“Lawyer, actually.”

“Really? Makes me glad I didn’t go the traditional route then.” 

“Hermione set the next jar in front of Ginny and cut another length of ribbon. “It's really not so bad if you’re working on something you believe in or like.”

Ginny stopped to think about that. “I suppose that’s true. Come to think of it, I write all the time so I probably put in even more hours than that.”

“See? Besides, I doubt I’ll be able to work that much now that I’m at a new job. I was fired a week before Christmas,” Hermione added at Ginny’s questioning glance. 

“What? I didn’t know they actually did that. I thought that was only in those bad Hollywood movies they keep shipping over here.” 

“No, unfortunately not,” Hermione told her.

“Well, either way I’m happy you’re here now. You wouldn’t believe how happy I am that I’m doing this with someone who doesn’t speak French,” Ginny told her as she began to clip the ends off the flowers.

“I can speak in French if you’d prefer, though I'm afraid I've forgotten half of what I know,” Hermione offered, unsure at what Ginny was getting at. 

Ginny groaned at the suggestion. “Please don’t, I’ll have flashbacks and then I won’t get anything done. With Phlegm and her sisters around I forgot what English sounded like and had to spend a week relearning it.”

Mrs. Weasley swatted at Ginny with the dishrag that hung from her shoulder. “Ginny, be nice,” she scolded on her way to the kitchen. Ginny only rolled her eyes and scooted closer to Hermione.

“Mum acts offended but she was the most put out when Bill married Phlegm. He’s the oldest and he’s always been Mum’s baby boy. We all thought he’d lost his mind when he brought her home to meet the family. According to him they met through work but they’d only been dating four months before they decided to get hitched. Charlie, Ron, and George all had a pot going as to whether or not she was up the duff,” Ginny told her. She paused a moment as her mother walked through the room. “Then Mum insisted they get married here, probably to try and put Phlegm off the marriage since all her family’s still in France.” 

Hermione glanced towards the door and leaned towards Ginny. “What’s so wrong with her?”

“Ugh, what isn’t wrong with her?” Ginny groaned and leaned against the back of her chair. She sat up straight and flipped her hair behind her dramatically before adopting a horrible French accent. “’Ello Ginny, ‘ow er you today? Eesn’t mah Beel as lovely as me today?” Ginny stuck out her tongue and Hermione laughed. “If she isn’t going on about how beautiful she is or how much prettier her sister’s hair is than mine or how perfect Beel is, then she’s going on about how wonderfully her fashion line is going and how many famous people she’s met. Honestly, if she weren’t so decent after what happened to Bill I’d have tried to convince him to divorce her by now.”

“Fred said they weren’t coming but he didn’t mention that anything had happened. Is he alright?” Hermione asked worriedly.

“He’s fine. It happened years ago anyways. He was sent out to help fix some security patches out in the middle of nowhere Russia and was attacked by a pack of dogs. Apparently they were a big problem out there after the wall fell. Anyways, he was really torn up. Mum almost didn’t recognize him. We all thought Fleur would move back home as soon as she saw him, but she never left his side the entire time. And she’ll be the first to tear into anyone who even mentions his scars. I asked Bill about it later and he told me that once you’re a part of her family she’ll fight off a dragon and go to the ends of the world for you.” 

“How long have they been together?”

Ginny paused to think about it. “Almost ten years now? They’ve got two girls, one’s seven and the other’s almost four. The cutest things you’ve ever seen but they’re absolute trouble if you take your eyes away from them for one minute.”

Hermione laughed at that. “They sound lovely.”

Ginny agreed and set another finished jar on the tray. “So, how did you meet my darling brother anyway? He claims it was because your cat keep going after his cheese but I’ve learned long ago not to trust even half of what he tells me. I thought it was slang for something but he kept telling me that’s what happened.”

“No, my cat did really keep going after his cheese. And his curry and yogurt and almost anything he could get his grubby paws on. Apparently he’d found a way down into their apartment and I met your brother trying to get him back. Did you know George hates cats?” Hermione asked her.

Ginny only grinned. “I know all about it. Remind me to tell you about my pet Mitsy Mum had me to get rid of after we found out Charlie was allergic.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow and decided it was best to ask about it later as Mrs. Weasley walked through the kitchen. “Always, it turns out Crookshanks found a way to open up their crisper and he kept sneaking down there while I was at work. A week later I found Fred sitting outside on my fire escape and I let him in and fed him curry and then we, well we got to know each other better,” Hermione paused and tried to keep her blush down as she tried to figure out the best way to explain it to his sister. From her grin Hermione realized she was probably coming up with her own version of the story.

Ginny looked thoughtful for a moment. “How did your cat keep getting down there then?”

“Through the vents, actually. I caught him at it before we were supposed to leave for a book signing that weekend.” 

Ginny laughed at that and she and Hermione fell into a comfortable conversation. Ginny was more than happy to tell her all the family gossip and warn her of her Aunt Muriel and sweaty cousin Herman while Hermione told her more about her own life. It seemed like the afternoon passed in no time at all and before long they were joined by more Weasleys. 

xxxx

Anyone have any preferences for who Ron or Percy are married to? All suggestions welcome (other than Lavender and Luna, she’s got a spot for later). Also, would you prefer quicker updates or longer updates? 

As always, please review and thanks for reading!


	6. Celebrations

Hermione set the last dish on the table and squeezed into the chair between Ginny and Fred. As much as she was enjoying her time with the Weasleys she couldn’t imagine how four more people were going to squeeze in tomorrow. Already there were thirteen people at the table and despite Mrs. Weasley’s rapid fire introductions Hermione still wasn’t sure who was who.

“Just how many more people are supposed to come in this weekend?” Hermione asked Fred.

He grinned at her and passed her the rolls. “Not used to having this many people around?”

“Not at all,” she said as she handed the basket to Ginny. “Whenever my family gets together there’s usually only about six of us. And that’s only if Cousin Eddy is able to make it in from Prague. Now who’s who again?”

“That’s Percy next to Ginny,” Fred pointed at his brother with the serving spoon before handing it off, “he’s the third oldest. Real prat but Mum says we can’t stop inviting him to things. He works in Parliament for some hot shot politician and he thinks he’s the highest authority on everything. Don’t get into an argument with him no matter how right you are. He’ll win just by wearing you down.”

Hermione took the casserole dish from him and glanced at the woman next to Percy. “And the woman next to him is Penny?”

Fred nodded. “They’ve been dating since they graduated from Cambridge, but no one has any idea why they’re still together. She’s one of the nicest people you could ever meet while Percy is, well he’s Percy.” He paused a moment to take a square of his mother’s meatloaf and handed it to Hermione before continuing.

“Then there’s Charlie who you were talking to earlier. Normally he’s working in Romania but Mum guilted him into staying until George’s party is over.”

“He’s the one I’m upgrading to, right?” Hermione asked as she reached for the pepper.

Fred rolled his eyes. “I’m glad to hear you’re so happy to trade me in. But if he tells you anything bad about me or George it’s a lie. Unless it’s good then just assume that he’s playing things down.”

“And if it’s neutral?”

Fred paused and thought about that. “I’ll have to get back to you on that one.”

Hermione grinned. “I’m sure it won’t take you long. The woman to the right of Charlie is Ron’s wife?” 

“Yeah, Daphne Greengrass. They were in secondary together but she wouldn’t give him a second look until he started working in Bedfordshire doing strategy work for the air force. From what Dad says he’s pretty high up. The three sprogs with them are Hugo, Arthur Jr., and Septimus.”

Hermione pursed her lips. “Septimus? That’s an odd name.”

Fred grinned at her and Hermione knew he was trying to keep from mentioning her name. “Poor kid’s in for a hard time at school if Percy is anything to go by. I think Ron said it was some family name on her side.” 

Before Hermione had a chance to ask about anyone else, Ginny leaned over in an attempt to escape Percy’s lecturing. “Percy will not stop talking about his work. What are you two talking about over here?”

“How badly your room stinks,” Fred told her. Ginny stuck her tongue out at him and looked to Hermione.

“Seriously though, talk to me so Percy won’t. He’s been trying to get me to agree with him that austerity measures are the best for the country right now. I don’t even know think I know what that means.”

“Usually it means budget cuts to welfare and pension programs,” Hermione replied automatically. “And your brother’s been giving me a who’s who of everyone. Your mother ran through names so quickly I didn’t have a chance to put a face to a name.”

Ginny made a face. “Why would Percy think I would have an opinion on that? And Mum does that all the time. I think she just assumes we’ve all met before. Oh Fred, did Charlie tell you the latest about Daphne’s sister?” she asked. Fred scooted his chair closer to Hermione and she raised an eyebrow at his eagerness to hear the latest gossip.  
“What did she do this time? Don’t tell me she ran off with that blond git again.”

Ginny shook her head and leaned towards Hermione. “No, it’s worse than that. Her dad finally gave her back her credit card, they’re loaded,” Ginny added for Hermione, “and she decided to max it out on buying her brother’s au pair an entire new wardrobe. Then they up and ran off to Monaco the next week.”

Fred glanced over at Ron and Daphne to see if they were paying any attention. “Wasn’t that the one with the mustache they brought over from Denmark?”

“No, that was the one that was fired for nicking the napkin rings. This is the one from Austria. But according to Charlie the tabloids are saying that Bulgarian football player you and Ron were so in love with has moved in with them.” 

Fred took a bite while he tried to think about who Ginny could be talking about. “You mean Viktor Krum?”

Ginny snapped her fingers. “That’s the one.”

“Please,” Hermione snorted as she bit into a roll. “I don’t know what you heard but Viktor hasn’t dated anyone for a while. He’s been far too busy trying to get his minor league together to focus on anything else.”

Ginny and Fred both turned to look at her with wide eyes. “You know Viktor Krum? How am I just now finding out about this?”

Hermione shrugged. “It’s not like it’s a big deal. We used to date years ago and we kept in touch. Besides, if he had been to Monaco he would have mentioned it.”

“Wait, does that mean he would know about me?” Fred asked excitedly.

She nodded and took another bite of the roll. “He even asked if you knew some Delacour woman but I told him I didn’t know.”

Fred fell back into his chair, too overwhelmed at the prospect of being two degrees of separation apart from his football idol. “I don’t know whether I should be happy he knows who I am or if I should be jealous that you know him but I don’t.”

Ginny scowled at her brother and threw her napkin at him. “Way to make a girl feel special Fred.” She turned to Hermione, eager to find out more about the football player. “Is he really as fit as they make him look in the magazines? My friend Collin swears that there’s no way anyone could look like that without some help from the photographer.”

Fred scowled back at his sister and pushed his peas around his plate. “I am right here you know.”

Ginny waved her brother away. “Oh hush, Fred. I’m trying to find out some serious information here. When else am I going to get the chance?”

“Serious information about what?” Percy cut in, finally realizing that Ginny was no longer listening to him.

“Hermione here used to date Viktor Krum, that football player Ronnie had the hots for for years.”

Ron’s head turned towards them at the mention of his name. “Oi, I did not. You’re the one who had his poster up everywhere.”

“And you’re the one who stole half of them to put up in your locker at school,” Ginny said across the table. 

“That’s only because you stole all my Weird Sisters posters and sold them to that weird Creavey kid down the road.”

Hermione leaned into Fred’s side as she tried to avoid Ginny’s elbow. “Are things always this interesting?”

Fred grinned at her. “You should see them at Easter. They’ve been stealing each other’s chocolate rabbits and replacing them with frogs for years. Practically a tradition around here.”

xxxx

After dinner Mrs. Weasley had herded everyone into the living room for tea and pie. Though it was not much bigger than the dining room, Hermione found the room to be much more accommodating for the large number of people. Penny had started speaking with her about their respective jobs and Hermione found herself enjoying the company. At a break in the conversation Percy slipped in and began to speak with Penny about something that had come up at work, effectively pushing Hermione out of the conversation. To her relief, Fred slipped up behind her before she could begin to feel like a third wheel.

“Come with me for a minute,” he told her. “I want to show you something.” 

“Alright.” Hermione set down her tea and slipped around Ginny to follow him up the stairs. When they reached his room, she raised an eyebrow at the mess but chose not to mention it. “So what did you want to show me?”

Fred reached towards the one organized shelf and picked up with looked to be a strange cross between a pepper grinder, a wine opener, and a cheese grater. He turned it over once and proudly held it up to her.

“What is it?” she asked as she inspected it.

“George and I’s first invention. Here, take this and pop it into that slot there.” He handed her a small dried bean and watched as she put it into the opening. “Then aim it towards the wall and turn the crank.”

Hermione did as instructed and barely kept from jumping as the bean shot out and hit the wall across the room. 

“George and I used to hang out that window and shoot peas at Percy when he was out front helping Mum. I don’t think he ever figured out where it was coming from.”

Hermione smiled at that. “I’m glad to see you’ve focused your intellects on something a little more useful than bothering your brothers, even if he is a bigger prat than Malfoy.”  
Fred laughed at her description. “I’m glad you think so. Now we should probably get back downstairs before Mum sends the cavalry up after us. Did I ever tell you about the time we stuffed Ron’s teddy bear full of fake rubber spiders?”

xxxx

**29 January**

Fred watched as Hermione navigated her way through the tent, a scowl set on her face. Either she’d run into Aunt Muriel and been called a gold digging tramp again or they were out of those peach tarts she loved so much. It wasn’t long before she’d made her way to his side.

“Your brother is an absolute git,” she growled and took his champagne flute from him.

“Percy has that effect on people,” Fred replied as he watched her finish it off. “That’s why George and I never bring him round unless Mum makes us.”

Hermione’s head tilted as she looked at him. “You have five brothers and somehow you still know who I’m talking about.”

Fred grinned at her. “What can I say? It’s a well-honed instinct. That and I saw you talking to him over by the punch bowl.”

Hermione snorted at that. “Creeper.”

“Only for you love. What did he say that got you so riled up anyways?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and set the now empty glass down on the table in front of them. “He tried to tell me that I’d do so much better if only I focused on writing policy rather than working on cold cases since they’re nothing but a waste of taxpayer money. As if he would know the proper use of taxpayer money, he works for the man advocating for the biggest waste of funds.”

“Now that I think of it, that Thicknesse bloke’s helped pushed his head further up his arse. Don’t know how anyone can stand it.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” Hermione muttered. They watched the guests on the dance floor and Hermione’s foul mood seemed to lift a bit. “If it wasn’t for him your family would be quite lovely. Even though your brother Ron could use some help in his table manners.”

“If Daphne hasn’t beaten that out of him yet, I doubt he’ll change that.” Fred held out his hand and nodded towards the dance floor. He smiled as Hermione took his hand and followed him, quickly picking up the beat. “Did I ever tell you about my Uncle Bilius? Life and soul of the party he was before he went a bit loopy. He used to down an entire bottle of Teeling’s whiskey, then he’d run onto the dance floor, drop his trousers and start pulling bunches of flowers out of his –“

Hermione laughed and hit his shoulder before he could continue. “Yes, he sounds a real charmer.”

xxxx

Long after the party had ended, Hermine found she couldn’t sleep even though it was well after two a.m. She wasn’t sure if it was the last Irish coffee she’d been convinced to share with Ginny while they cleaned up or if it was the unfamiliarity of the room. As she listened to Ginny’s soft snores Hermione decided she was probably still wound up from the excitement of the day. It really was a lovely party even though she’d do her best to avoid Aunt Muriel from her on. One wouldn’t think a woman her age would have such a filthy mouth.

The sound of the door opening caught her attention and she sat up to peer into the darkness. It wasn’t until he was a foot from the bed that Hermione was able to make out Fred’s tall form.

“Budge up,” he whispered and she shifted closer to the wall. “George’s snuck Angelina and he locked me out when I went to the loo, the ruddy bastard.”

Hermione laughed as Fred crawled in behind her. “Are you surprised? He’s locked you out of your apartment how many times now?”

“Yeah, but that’s different. Here Mum will have a fit when she finds out.” Fred pulled the blanket over the both of them and tried to get comfortable on the small bed. “He’s probably forgotten Mum’s morning rounds to wake us all up. I think it reminds her of when we were all still home.”

“And what will she say when she finds you in here?” she asked. 

“That’s only if she catches me. Mum always checks on Ginny’s room last and when she finds our door locked she’ll wake everyone up. The trick of it is to sneak downstairs without her noticing,” he told her as he threw his arm around her and pulled her closer.

“And what about when your sister notices the two of you chattering on?” Ginny’s voice called out.

“Oh relax Gin. We’re just sleeping over her.”

Ginny snorted. “And why can’t you sleep downstairs on the couch?”

“Because it’s been too small for anyone but you for years. Besides, you wouldn’t want your favorite brother to suffer on that old thing would you?”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t. But then again Bill’s not here is he?”

xxxx

As predicted Mrs. Weasley’s voice rang through the house at 7:00 a.m. sharp. “George Fabian Weasley I don’t care how close you are to being married I told you to sleep in your bed!”

Fred gave a sudden start as he was jerked awake and fell out of the bed with a thump. Ginny’s snickers could be heard from the other bed and he glared at her. “Mum’s gonna be on the warpath this morning and you’re next,” she told him in a singsong voice.

Hermione sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She glanced down at Fred who was rubbing the spot on his head. He blinked for a moment before Ginny’s words hit him. “Oh bollocks, Gin you’ve got to hide me. She’ll kill me if she finds out I slept in here you know how she is.”

Ginny only grinned at his distress. “Uh-uh. Think of this as payback for you and George throwing all my clothes in the pond at Christmas.

“Oh I’m done for,” he muttered. He ran his hands through his hair and began looking around the room for a hiding place. “Send my regards to Neville; I don’t think there will be enough of me to make it to his garden unveiling after Mum gets through with me.” Hermione watched as he tried to fit himself into the small cupboard and winced as he banged the door on his elbow. Taking pity on him, she aimed the extra pillow and blanket at his feet and cringed when both hit him in the head.

“Thanks love. And here I thought you were supposed to be on my side,” he whined as he picked the pillow up from the floor.

She rolled her eyes at his theatrics. “I am you big oaf. Now be quick about it and put the blanket down. If you’re lucky your Mum will assume you slept on the floor last night.”  
Fred grinned at her as he caught onto her scheme. “You’re brilliant love, have I ever told you that?”

“Constantly,” Hermione replied dryly. Ginny made a gagging noise from across the room and Fred spread the blanket out before lying down on the floor. “Now hurry up or you’ll get all of us in trouble.”

In a surprising act of altruism Ginny threw another blanket at him. Not a minute late Mrs. Weasley burst into the room and looked around as if she were trying to find something out of place. “Girls, it’s time to get up, breakfast will be ready soon.” Spotting Fred on the floor she nodded at him. “Good morning Fred dear. I’m glad you found someplace to sleep since your brother decided he needed his privacy in my home.”

Fred made a nose and waved back at her before he turned on his side to face Hermione. He made a face and she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

“Hermione dear, you’re more than welcome to use the shower downstairs in our bedroom if you’d like,” Mrs. Weasley continued. “It can get a bit crowded up here so please feel free to use that one. I believe Penny is in there now but she should be out soon.”

At the mention of the downstairs bathroom both Ginny and Fred sat up and began talking over each other. 

“Mum, you’re really not going to make me share a bathroom with the boys again are you?”

“Mum, you can’t make me share a bathroom with Percy and Ron again they leave their towels all over the place and –“

Mrs. Weasley’s glare was enough to quiet both her children. “Don’t even start with me you two. We have guests and I know your father and I taught you better than that.”

Ginny flung herself back down on her bed and Fred crossed his arms. “Yes Mum,” they both mumbled.

“Good. Now be down in fifteen minutes or your brothers will have eaten everything already,” Mrs. Weasley told them before leaving the room.

Hermione began to laugh at the two pouting siblings. Fred only looked at her. “You’re lucky you’re an only child.”

Ginny rolled over to face her. “You’re on only child? Lucky, I would kill to be an only child right now. You don’t understand how horrible it is to share a bathroom with all those boys,” she told her as she sat up. “Fred, cover your eyes. I want to get up.”

“So get up, I’m not stopping you,” Fred told her. He stretched as he stood up and Hermione had to look at the wall so she wouldn’t be tempted to stare.

“Because I don’t sleep in trousers now turn around you creep. Or I’ll tell Mum you slept in your girlfriend’s bed all night.”

Fred made a face but crawled back onto the bed and faced the wall. “Like she doesn’t run around with trousers on when it’s just the family. Way she’s going on you’d think she got a tattoo or something.”

“You’re one to talk Mr. Rabbit,” Hermione scolded as she stood up to pull out a change of clothes.

Ginny paused with only one leg in a pair of pajama pants. “Mr. Rabbit? Wait, don’t tell me Freddie went and got himself a tattoo? Mum’s not only going to kill you she’s going to bring you back and make you clean the attic too,” she crowed. She pulled on the other leg and went over to tease her brother. “Where is it? I want to see.”

“Now you’ve done it. In ten minutes the entire house will know about it,” he grumbled. 

“Oh it’s not that bad,” Hermione assured him. “And trust me, I doubt you’ll want to see it considering where he put it,” she told Ginny.

Ginny’s grin got even wider. “So you’ve seen it then. Aw Freddie, I didn’t know you had it in you. Not only did you get a tattoo but you even showed it to a girl.” Fred threw his pillow at Ginny and Hermione left the room before she got caught in the line of fire.

xxxx

Two hours later Hermione found herself helping take down the large tent in the backfield. Mr. Weasley had quickly recruited everyone who was still at the burrow after breakfast and they’d all diligently trudged out through the snow to help. Fred had been volunteered to untie the ropes around the tent stakes and Hermione helped where she could. Admittedly that meant that she was used as a ballast rather than another set of hands, but at least she was able to help.

While they went Charlie was ‘helpfully’ telling the entire group about when they were growing up, usually embellishing them enough so that he appeared to be the golden child.  
“Hey Daph! Did Ronniekins ever tell you about when he broke Percy’s mirror?” Ron scowled at his brother and muttered something to Daphne that made her laugh. Charlie was determined to go on though. “Apparently he wound himself up so much about asking a girl out to a dance he took fashion advice from the twins and ended up in a ruffled maroon suit that looked like Aunt Muriel’s first husband was buried in.”

“Actually it was Uncle Bilius’ and it had horrible black and gold lace along the seams. Still don’t know how we managed to get Ron to wear it,” Fred told Hermione as he began to untie the first rope.

“And on their first day he snuck into Percy’s room and tried to use his cologne. Only problem was little Ronnie was allergic to it and went into sneezing fits so bad he knocked the bottle into the mirror and cracked it,” Charlie called out to everyone who was listening.

“I knew that was you Ron!” Percy’s shrill voice came from inside the tent.

“Sod off, Perce,” Ron yelled. “That cologne smelled worse than a dog’s arse, I was doing you a favor.”

Fred had finally managed to get the second knot untied and he wiped his hands and sat back on his heels. “Actually, Ron wasn’t allergic to the cologne, he was allergic to the huckleberries George and me snuck in there. Perce had been an absolute wanker to Gin about some writing thing she’d done so we figured a bit of payback was in ordered. Didn’t find out until years later Ron was allergic.”

Hermione quirked an eyebrow at him s she finished winding up the rope. “Was there ever a time when you and your brother didn’t cause chaos wherever you went?” They walked to the next tent pole and Hermione tugged on the rope as Fred bent over to untie the knot.

“Nah. Even when we were sleeping we still managed to get Ron in trouble. Pull it a bit more towards me will you?” Hermione shifted so that she was standing over Fred. “Besides, Ron did a better job mucking up that mirror than George or I ever could have. It came out better than a fun house mirror,” Fred added.

Hermione let her grip go slack as something began to snap into place. There was something there, but what?”

“Love, you’re going to have to keep up the tension if I’m going to be able to get this untied.” 

Hermione pulled on the rope and leaned back. “What do you mean about the mirror?”

Fred shrugged and cursed under his breathe when the knot wouldn’t come lose. “Just that it never looked the same. If you wanted to get a decent view of yourself you had to stand just to the right of it.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped and she dropped the rope once more. That was it. That was the solution. “Fred, you’re absolutely brilliant,” she told him. She grabbed his jaw and kissed him hard, ignoring the catcalls from his brothers. 

“Thanks for finally noticing my keen intellect,” he said, a goofy grin on his face. “But what does that have to do with Ron destroying Percy’s mirror?”

“I’ll explain everything later,” she told him. Hermione began to jog towards the house. “Everything makes sense now!” She called out over her shoulder.

Ron came over to help Fred with the rope. “She’s an odd one isn’t she?” 

xxxx 

“Mrs. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley!” Hermione called out. She kicked off her snow boots and began to run towards the kitchen, the last place she’d seen her. “Mrs. Weasley, I need to use your phone.”

Mrs. Weasley and Ginny came running out of the dining room to find out what was wrong. “Hermione, dear, calm down. Has anyone been hurt?”

“No one’s hurt,” Hermione told her breathlessly. “But I need to use your phone to call London as soon as possible. I think I’ve figured it out.”

Mrs. Weasley and Ginny exchanged glances, both taken aback by her demeanor. After making sure once more that there was nothing wrong, Mrs. Weasley led her to the telephone in the kitchen. “Of course dear, but if you’re calling out of county do try and make it quick. I’m afraid we’ve used most of our minute for the party.”

Hermione grinned at her and began to dial Harry’s work number. “If I’m right about this, send me the bill and I’d be more than happy to pay for it myself.”

She twirled the phone cord and muttered “Pick up, Harry, pick up,” while she listened to the phone ring. Harry picked up on the eighth ring and she heard his bored voice tell her, “Westminster Police, Special Investigations Unit. This is Harry, how can I help you?”

“Harry, Harry! I’ve got it, I’ve figured out where he’s hidden the stone,” she said quickly.

“Hermione? Is that you? I thought you were supposed to be out in Devon for that party?”

“I am, and I’ll tell you about it later, but I know where he’s hidden it.”

Harry paused and tried to catch up to Hermione’s train of thought. “Who’s hidden what? Hermione slow down while I get a pen.” She could her papers shuffling in the background and she tapped her foot to try and contain her energy. “Alright, now what are you going on about?”

“The stone Harry, that stone that was stolen two weeks ago. We have the right man but we weren’t looking in the right place.”

Harry sighed and she could imagine him putting his head in his hand. “Hermione, his apartment was turned upside down. We even looked between the walls, it’s not there. And if we go in another time he’s going to file charges against us for harassment.”

Hermione tugged at a curl, frustrated at Harry’s obstinance. “Harry, you’re not listening to me. That mirror above his fireplace, don’t you remember how odd it was it kept changing its reflection each time you moved around the room? It’s because it wasn’t a real mirror. Harry, he’s hidden it behind there I just know it.”

“Hermione let this go. You’re not going to be able to solve every case. And we tried to move that mirror from that wall but it wouldn’t budge, remember?” 

Hermione scowled at Harry’s stubborn refusal to see things her way. He really was worse than she was at times. “Just because we couldn’t get it off the wall doesn’t mean it doesn’t come off the wall. No one asked him to move it did he? And he stood in front of the mirror the whole time and refused to move away from it. We never got the chance to even look at it further.” 

Harry was silent and Hermione knew she was close to convincing him. “Please Harry. Just have them check one more time. I know I’m right about this.”  
Harry sighed once more and Hermione knew she’d won. “Fine. I’ll talk to Kingsley and see if he’ll sign off on it. But only if you can explain how he got the stone out of the museum. They searched everyone before they let anyone leave and he didn’t have it on his person.”

“That’s because they only searched his clothing. No one searched his turban, Harry. We both went through those files and you know he doesn’t wear it for religious reasons but because he claimed some African prince gave it to him. But they didn’t know that at the museum. It would have been so easy for him to slip it into the fabric when no one was looking. That has to be how he got it out of the museum.”

Harry was silent a moment as he considered it. “Are you sure about this?”

“As sure I was about the Crouch kidnapping.”

“Alright, but if things go foul up I don’t think I can protect you.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at his overprotectiveness. “I don’t need protecting Harry, but thank you for your concern. I’ll call you back before we leave.”

xxxx

Hermione shifted the phone to her other ear as she watched Fred bring down the last of the bags. He waved at her and she held up her hand to let him know she’d be another five minutes. “Have they found anything out yet Harry?”

“Not yet. Dean and Seamus were able to get the mirror off the wall though. Once Quirrell saw they’d gotten it off the wall he clammed up and they haven’t gotten him to speak since. They’ve got him in the back now.”

Hermione let out the breath she’d been holding. It had been a gamble to push them to search the apartment one last time but it was the only way anything made sense. Now she had to hope that the rock was hidden away in the safe and that Seamus didn’t blow it up when he tried to open it.

“I’m glad to hear that Harry. Is there any other news?”

“Not about the rock. But your cat did manage to break another of my answering machines. How has he not figured out that it’s not a real person yet?”

Hermione chuckled at that. “If I knew that I wouldn’t be spending so much on buying a new answering machine every other month. I’ll bring you a new one when I see you on Wednesday.”

“Don’t worry about it. Nev’s been after me to get a new one for ages. Kingsley’s just come back in; I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Alright. Thanks again Harry,” Hermione said as she hung up the phone. She walked towards the living room only to find that Mrs. Weasley was tearfully saying goodbye to each of her children in turn.

“And you, Georgie, you’re so far from home and I never see you again. You and your brother have been working so hard, it’s like you have no more time for your parents,” she cried.

Fred and George both rolled their eyes. “Mum, we’ve been here twice since Christmas. Do you want us to move back in?” George asked. 

Mrs. Weasley only rolled her eyes and moved onto Angelina. “And Angelina my dear, it’s so nice to see you again. I’m so happy you’ll be a part of our family and I’m so looking forward to the wedding.”

Angelina smiled at her and hugged her. “Thanks for the party Mrs. Weasley. We really do appreciate it and I’m sure we’ll see you again soon.” 

Finally, Mrs. Weasley turned to Hermione and bundled her up in a hug. “Hermione, my dear it was so good to meet you. I hope we’ll see more of you in the future. Perhaps then I’ll see my son more often.”

Fred sighed and began to take the bags out to the car, more than used to his mother’s overreactions. “It was nice to meet you and Mr. Weasley. It really was a lovely party.” 

“Yes, it was, but now we have to go or we’ll hit that storm coming in from the Channel. Thanks again Mum,” George said as he kissed his mother on the cheek and steered Hermione and Angelina towards the door.

“Quick, run now or we’ll never leave,” he muttered to them. “Bye Mum, bye family,” he called out over his shoulder as they walked out the door.

Angelina only laughed and Hermione followed the two to the car hoping that she could survive the ride back with all three of them. 

xxxx

14 February

After spending her entire week between the station and the hospital, Hermione finally returned home late on Saturday. Ever since Tuesday the entire department had been working overtime as the man Quirrell had been working for had come out of the shadows. Ever since they’d found where Quirrell had hidden the stone (surprisingly not behind the mirror but at one of the most secure banks in the city) his boss had begun to threaten those who were publicly connected to the case. And when he wasn’t threatening those she worked with the man was chasing down academia and demanding to know how the philosopher’s stone worked. When the scholars couldn’t tell him what he wanted to know he killed them and left either a locket, a cup, or a tiara next to their bodies as a calling card.

Honestly, the whole thing was far too much like a Dan Brown book that if it wasn’t happening to people she knew Hermione wouldn’t have believed it. Things only got worse when Harry went to lunch on Wednesday at the same café that the man had brought his latest victim. While Harry was waiting for his order to be brought out he noticed a pale bald man who was dragging a mousy looking man out the back door. Always suspicious, Harry had followed only to find that the mousy looking man matched a bolo that had gone out that morning.

As he watched, the pale man shoved the other to the ground and pointed a gun at the back of his head. Harry had called out and ordered him to drop the weapon. Instead, the man turned to face Harry, pointed the gun at him, and shot him in the shoulder. Before being hit, Harry had managed to get his own shot off and critically injure the man. When Hermione heard the report over the radio Tonks had to physically restrain her from running out the door to Harry. Thirty minutes later Harry was transferred to the hospital and both Hermione and Neville had rushed to meet him there.

Since then, Hermione had refused to leave his side unless it was to return to the station and finish up the paperwork on the case, though that was partially due to Kingsley’s imposed security restrictions. It wasn’t until Harry and Neville had both reassured her that nothing else would happen that she’d finally been convinced to return to her own flat.   
As soon as she entered her apartment Hermione lay down on her couch and flipped the telly on, determined to watch a few minutes to relax and then make dinner. It wasn’t long before her eyes began to close on their own and she resigned herself to waking up with a crick in her neck and a kink in her back.

When she awoke it was dark outside and the strains of an Elvin Bishop song began to filter through to her from the kitchen. She heard Fred’s voice chastising her cat and the smell of chicken cooking made her stomach growl. It wasn’t until Hermione opened her eyes and sat up that she found there was a card and a candy box placed on the coffee table in front of her. 

Curious as to what the occasion was, Hermione picked up the card and opened it. A smiling otter floating on its back greeted her and she smiled, touched that Fred remembered what her favorite animal was. Inside the card read “You are ‘Otterly Adorable,’ and in Fred’s tight looping handwriting he’d written another cheesy poem, only this time he’d managed to rhyme Hermione with timey.

Hermione reached towards the candy box but hesitated when she saw it was for salt-water taffies. Determined, she opened the box and found out that Fred had only used the box to wrap a third edition copy of “Oxford – A History,” a book she already owned five copies of and never tired of reading. She smiled fondly at it and ran her hand over the embellished cover. 

A minute later Hermione picked up the book and the card and brought them to the kitchen where she found Fred cooking what looked to be chicken marsala and arguing with her cat on whether he would get a piece. “Is this for me?” she asked as she held up the book.

Fred grinned his crooked grin at her and she felt the butterflies begin to rise in her stomach. “Unless Crooks here has taken up reading it is.”

Hermione couldn’t help but smile at his ridiculousness and set the book down gently on the counter. “Fred, I can’t accept this, it’s too much.”

Fred only scoffed and turned the chicken over. “You can. It’s a gift after all. Think of it as belated payment for rewriting that contract for George and me a while back. And it’s something to keep you occupied when I head out to France next week.”

Hermione paused. That was news to her. “France? Why are you going to France?”

He at least had the decency to look sheepish at springing such news on her. “Lee landed an interview with the Zonko’s outfit over in France and told us on Wednesday. We really can’t afford to miss this opportunity, we’d be crazy not to go.”

“Oh. Well make sure to pack warm then, there’s been some strange weather over there. Where will you be going?” she asked. Hermione reached around Fred to grab a glass and poured out a bottle of wine.

“Calais. You mean you’re not mad?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. “Why on earth would I be mad at you for pursuing your dreams? Besides, you’ve never complained about all the times I run off with Harry to poke around in sketchy alleyways.”

Fred let out a laugh at that. “That’s true. I just wasn’t sure if you’d be made about me telling you today.”

Hermione tilted her head and looked at him, trying her best to figure out why a Saturday would be so significant to him. “Today? Why would finding out today matter so much?”   
Fred peered at her as if he were trying to see if she was serious. “You really don’t know?”

Hermione glanced towards the calendar she’d hung on the wall. Nothing was written on today’s date, but as she looked at it the realization suddenly hit. Her eyes went wide as she finally realized it was Valentine’s Day. 

“Oh Fred, I’m so sorry. With everything going on I didn’t even realize the date,” she apologized. She raised a hand to hide her face and leaned against the counter. “And you’ve been so sweet taking care of Crookshanks for me and all I could think about was Harry. No wonder you thought I’d be angry with you I haven’t spoken to you in almost a week.”

Fred gave a soft laugh and pulled her into a hug. “Not at all. If something happened to George I don’t think I’d even realize it was raining outside.” Hermione leaned into the hug, grateful that he wasn’t irritated with her. “Actually the reason I thought you’d be mad is because Angelina hasn’t been happy with George since she found out. Then again George’s is leaving her on her own to find a place for the wedding and to start deciding who to invite. He’ll be lucky if the invitations don’t end up being hot pink and they get married in that dodgy pub down the road.”

Hermione snorted at the image. “Doubtful. It would completely ruin the pictures.”

“Doesn’t mean she wouldn’t try it though. Now come on and help me set the table before your cat gets all the chicken.”

xxxx  
Ninety percent fluff in this one but think of it as me making up for it for the next chapter or two. Also I absolutely adore the Weasleys and wanted some excuse to write them. I don’t know if it’s just me but I have this idea that Ginny, Fred, and Charlie would be the worst gossips and spend most of their time together talking about everyone else. Is that weird?

Anyways, the next chapter is fleshed out, just need to clean things up and hope my computer doesn't eat the second draft like it did for this chapter. So hopefully there will be another update within the next few days if things go right. 

If anyone is curious, the Elvin Bishop song is “Fooled Around and Fell in Love.” And I used an otter pun as an tribute to a cute story I came across by Behindthebook08. I’d strongly recommend anything they’ve written, absolutely fantastic writing style.

As always, please review and let me know what you think! And thanks for reading, enjoy your weekend!


	7. Commotion

Even though we are now seven chapters in, I got the strangest note and wanted to make sure everyone is on the same page before we go much further. This is an all Muggle, no magic, no Hogwarts AU. Though I do have a plot bunny for a Bewitched-esque one shot, this is not it. 

xxxx

**15 February**

Hermione stepped out of the shower and reached for the towel on the back of the door, for once running right on time. After forgetting about yesterday she’d insisted on taking Fred out to dinner at that fish and chip shop he liked so much to make up for it. The phone rang and she reached for her brush, determined to let nothing distract her from getting ready. The answering machine beeped as the call was switched over to it and a tinny version of Fred’s voice filtered through the apartment.

“Hate to do this to you love, but there’s been an accident at the shop.” Hermione dropped the brush and threw the door open in an attempt to reach the phone in time. In her haste she tripped over her laundry basket and the shoes littered across her bedroom floor. “We’re fine, nothing major. George just has a bit of a head wound. We’re at the hospital across from Purge and Dowse, Ltd. I’ll call when we find out more.” 

Hermione fumbled with the phone as she tried to catch Fred before he hung up, but luck was not with her that night. “Damnit,” she sighed. “There goes tonight.” Crookshanks only blinked at her from his spot on top of her telly before going back to sleep. 

xxxx

Angelina sighed and stared at the posters on the wall again. She’d memorized them hours ago and could easily recite all the common symptoms of the flu and syphilis verbatim. Not that she’d ever need the later if things kept up with her and George. A doctor walked by and Angelina jumped up in anticipation for an update on George. The doctor continued past without looking up from his charts and Angelina sat back down with a sigh.

They were lucky this time and they all knew it. By some freak accident a washer had sprung lose, probably from the pressure on it, and shot across the room to blow a hole through George’s left ear and knock him unconscious. The doctor’s assured them that the amount of blood was normal for a head injury and that despite a superficial wound George would be perfectly fine. For the night, however, they’d put him on heavy sedatives and under close watch to ensure that he hadn’t suffered a concussion from the fall. As a precaution Fred had been put under the same tests and was given a clean bill of health aside from a strained rotary cuff.

That was three hours ago and since then Angelina had read every magazine in the waiting room, including those brightly colored pamphlets that explained common ailments in bold fonts. Angelina glanced over at Fred, jealous that he’d somehow managed to find something to read that didn’t involve tabloid fodder. She shifted again in the stiff backed chair and wished past Angelina had thought ahead better and visited the gift shop before it closed.

“If you keep moving like that you’ll break the chair,” Fred told her as he flipped a page absently.

She sighed again and slid down the plastic chair so her eyes were even with her knees. “There’s absolutely nothing to do and I refuse to learn anything more about gonorrhea.” 

Fred whipped his head around to look at her, a horrified look on his face. “Why would you know – no, wait,” he decided, holding his hand up to keep her from answering. “That’s something I don’t want to know about. Whatever the reason that’s between you and George.”

Angelina rolled her eyes. She was too tired and hungry to humor him right now. “Please. I’ve read everything in her at least three times by now. I could probably write you an essay about dementia, encephalitis, and ingrown toenails by now.”

He shot her one more concerned look before returning to his magazine. Angelina looked around the room once more only to find that nothing had changed. She tapped her heels absentmindedly and listened to the sound of it echo through the waiting room. The corner of Fred’s eye twitched and she stilled her foot. Intellectually she knew that George was fine; every doctor and nurse that passed told her so. Emotionally she was still a nervous wreck.

“So Fred, you think you might marry her?” she asked when nothing jumped out to entertain her.

“Angelina, marriage is punishment for shoplifting in some countries,” Fred told her without ever looking up from his magazine. “Besides, we’ve only been dating six months. Don’t you think it’s a bit early to be thinking about that?”

Angelina pursed her lips and glared at him, unsure of whether that was an insult about her relationship or his honest opinion. She tapped her heels again, this time to try and irritate Fred into an argument. The past few months had reminded her how much she’d missed her friendship with Fred, especially how much fun it was to get under his skin with the little things. It also reminded her how much happier they both were when they weren’t dating each other. 

Before Fred could snap at her to settle down, Angelina heard a familiar voice asking where George Weasley was roomed. A moment later a nurse walked through the waiting room, followed by a stack of take-out boxes, coffee cups, and magazines with legs and bushy brown hair.

“I understand it’s past visiting hours but if you’ll just tell me where he is I can drop these off –“

The nurse stopped and stared hard at the take out boxes. “Yes, yes, you’ve told me before. You’re going to drop them off for the people waiting for him, it’s very important. You’ve already told me this Mrs. Granger –“

“Miss Granger, actually,” Hermione interrupted and Angelina snorted at her impulsive need to correct.

“Miss Granger,” the nurse stressed as she dropped a file in the bin outside a doorway. “Irregardless, you do not belong here so I would suggest you go home and get a good night’s rest before I have you removed from the premises so that I can return to my job.”

“I think you mean regardless, irregardless isn’t –“

“Actually, Nurse Strout,” Fred interrupted. “It’s us she’s looking for.”

“Fred!” the voice called as the boxes turned towards him. “I’ve been looking all over for you, but I’m afraid they refused to give me George’s room number, something about security, and I’m afraid I got a bit lost trying to get to the elevators and you didn’t leave a room number. And all the staff has been so helpful.

Nurse Strout glared once more and gave Fred a warning look before she continued down the hall. Fred reached for the drink carrier perched at the top of the stack and guided Hermione over to Angelina. As Hermione set the boxes and shopping bags down on the small lamp table Fred dragged a slightly larger coffee table over.   
“I’m afraid I didn’t know whether you liked coffee or tea so I just got you one of each,” Hermione told Angelina as she began to read the handwriting on the sides of the coffee cups. She set two blank cups in front of Angelina and pulled three tea bags out of her jacket pocket. “I just hope the water is still warm enough. Did you know the closest coffee shop is a ten minute walk from here? You’d think someone would have set up shop just across the way,” Hermione said as she set a cup in front of Fred and took the last cup for herself.

Fred reached for one of the clear plastic containers and Hermione smacked his hand away. “That’s not for you,” she scolded, taking the container from her and placing what looked to be carrot cake in front of Angelina. Fred gave her a faux scowl before drinking deeply from the coffee cup. “I hope the frosting hasn’t melted yet, it’s the best part of it.”

“Thanks Hermione.” Angelina smiled at her, grateful for any food at this point. Whether or not Fred could keep this one around Angelina already decided she’d call dibs on Hermione if things went south between the two. She’d willing let George and Lee keep Fred after the carrot cake, coffee, and tea. 

“What about me? Where’s my carrot cake?” Fred whined. Hermione only rolled her eyes when he lay his head on her shoulder. Angelina could only grin as she tore into the cake.

“Because you didn’t ask for it. Besides, you hate carrot cake and love red velvet. So I would suggest that you stop your whining or I’ll take it to Harry tomorrow.”

At the mention of red velvet Fred sat up and kissed her check before grabbing a fork. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

“And here I was thinking you only kept me around for my cat.” Angelina choked on the icing and Hermione turned a violent shade of red as she realized what she’d said. “You know I meant Crookshanks,” Hermione yelped.

Fred only winked at Hermione and grinned. “Well she’s not wrong.” Hermione frowned and punched him in the shoulder. “Ow, I’m injured and you’re beating up on me. If I’d   
known you were into that I would have suggested it earlier.”

Hermione scowled at him and began to rummage through one of the bags she’d brought. “Keep that up and you won’t be allowed to suggest anything.”

Fred only leered at her. “I always love it when a woman takes charge.” 

Angelina snorted. “Please, you’ve always been too stubborn to take orders from anyone and that extends to the bedroom. Now please tell me there’s real food in there, I’d sell my first child for a good kebab.”

Fred raised an eyebrow at her. “First gonorrhea, now you’re pregnant? Something you need to share, Ang?”

Hermione ignored his comment and set a takeout box in front of her. “No kebabs but there is fish and chips. They’re likely soggy by now since it took me so long to find this place.”

“Oh you’re a saint,” Angelina breathed. She snatched the box from Hermione’s out stretched hand and pulled out a handful of chips.

“Wait, that’s from the Golden Lion,” Fred sputtered as he eyed the logo on the bag. “They don’t do take out.”

Hermione gave him a cheeky smile and sat back in her chair. “They do if you cry for fifteen minutes because you’ve been stood up by the man who’s been promising to leave his wife for the past three years.” 

“Brilliant,” Fred told her as he shoved a piece of fish in his mouth. “Never would have thought you had it in you.”

“Then you can’t ever talk to Harry and Neville again. I do have an image to maintain and I’m sure they’d only tell you scurrilous lies.”

“Hermione where’s yours?” Angelina asked between bites.

Hermione only gave her a coy smile. “I ate at the restaurant. Had to make it seem plausible and I can’t stand soggy breading. Now, that your blood sugar should be up, how is George doing?”

Fred motioned to the hallway where George was staying. “He’s under for now but they’ll release him in the morning. Doctor already cleared him for France too. He’s got to keep his ear bandaged and he’ll be on pain meds for a while but they say he’ll live. Shame though. I’d already begun plans to turn his room in an adult sized ball pit.”

“Please,” Angelina said. “If he goes I should get dibs on his room as his almost-widow. Do you know how hard it is to get apartments that cheap a block close to the Tube?” 

xxxx

**22 February**

The bed shifted and Hermione rolled over to look at the clock. 4:40 a.m. The time when only drunks and police should be roaming about and her boyfriend had to be moving around like a madman. 

“Fred, stop making noise and go back to sleep. It’s far too early for decent people,” she mumbled. 

Fred laughed softly and she could hear the sound of a suitcase zipper being done up. “Unlike you I have a plane to catch in an hour and a half.” 

Hermione sat up and yawned. She’d forgotten all about that. The bed dipped and she felt Fred push a strand of hair behind her ear. She leaned into his hand and closed her eyes, an inch away from sleep. “So sleep for another hour. Not like it will take you long to get through at this hour.”

“I’m afraid it will. It’s an international flight so customs tends to muck things up a bit.”

“International?” she asked, voice still rough from sleep. “It’s just France. Not like it’s anything that special.”

Fred smiled at that and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be sure to mention that to Fleur.” 

She grumbled as the stubble on his chin scratched her forehead. “You didn’t shave this morning.”

“Nah, figured I’d do that at the airport when we’re waiting on the layover to Calais. It’ll cut down on dealing with a sleep deprived George and Fleur,” he told her as he stood up. 

Hermione yawned again and watched as he walked towards her kitchen. She stood up to pull her robe on, fighting to keep her eyes open, and watched as Crookshanks darted under the bed covers. “Opportunist,” she accused before walking towards the kitchen. It was doubtful she’d be able to get back to sleep and this way she’d at least get breakfast from it. 

When she came in she found Fred frying two eggs, the toaster and percolator already going. Hermione wrapped her arms around him and leaned against his back. They stood that way until the eggs and toast where done. Wordlessly, Hermione took two mugs out of the cabinet and filled them with coffee. The two made their way to her dining table with the food and it wasn’t long before George was beating on her door and yelling at Fred that the taxi was there. 

Hermione followed him out the door and they paused in the hallway so she could hug him one last time. “I’ll call tonight and let you know the hotel number. Don’t know how long we’ll be, but if things go right we should be back before April.”

“And if they go wrong?” she asked.

“Lee might just leave us there and then you’ll have to come smuggle me out of the land of wine and cheese.”

“I’m sure you and George can convince some poor innocent soul to bring you back. Now get going or George will leave you here and he’ll never let me hear the end of it,” Hermione yawned.

Fred grinned at her and kissed her again. He tugged on his knit cap before picking up his baggage and walking down the hall. Hermione watched him round the corner and walked back into her apartment to finish the pot of coffee and get a head start on the file she’d brought home.

Xxxx

**13 March**

Hermione pushed her way past the long line of people and stepped towards the side of the bakery counter. It was her day to pick up coffee for the team and it seemed lik all of London had decided to descend on this particular Café Nerro just to spite her. As she moved over to let someone through to the creamer, a scandalous red suit caught her eye. Hermione glanced towards it and her eyes went wide as she recognized the familiar blonde tresses and horn rimmed glasses. Before she was able to duck into the bathroom the woman spotted her and gave her a smile that would make a shark green with envy.

“Why Miss Granger, how lovely it is to see you slumming it up with the common folk,” the woman drawled. Just the sound of her voice was enough to put her teeth on edge. 

Hermione gave the woman a quick glance over and didn’t respond until she was certain there was no recording device on her person. “Miss Skeeter. Destroyed anymore lives lately?” 

Rita Skeeter only gave her a curt smile and reached for the creamer. “No lives you’d know. Speaking of, how is the Belgium lover boy these days? Last I heard he was shaking up with the Greengrass Marquise.”

Hermione closed her eyes and drew in a long breath. She counted to ten before blowing it out slowly. If she could get to work this morning without attempting murder it would be a miracle. “I wouldn’t know anything about that. From what I heard he’s been in Bulgaria for the last few months.”

Ms. Skeeter watched her closely as she stirred in the sugar and Hermione wished she had the forethought to switch it with the salt. “You never were one to keep up with celebrities,” Ms. Skeeter muttered as if she were insulted. “Though I do have to give you credit for catching the attention of a certain Mr. Weasley. I never thought you of all people would repeat history.”

Hermione could feel the snarl rising to her face. “If you’ve done or said anything –“

Rita Skeeter waved away the empty threat and blew on her coffee. “Oh don’t worry that pretty little head of yours dearie. As per the court order I have not written a single word about you nor will I. However, that does not stop others from doing the same.”

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows and something began to gnaw at her stomach. “What are you talking about?”

Rita Skeeter only smirked at her reaction. “Oh I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough,” she said airly. She took a few steps past Hermione but turned around as if she thought better of it. “If I could offer you a word of advice though?” Hermione muttered a ‘No,’ but the woman ignored it undeterred. “I’d keep a closer eye on that beau of yours. France has a way of swaying even the staunchest of hearts.” 

With her last parting shot Rita Skeeter walked out of the café once more and with any luck out of Hermione’s life forever.

Xxxx

**25 March**

At 3:05 a.m., Hermione was deep in sleep, dreaming about a bookstore where the walls changed every half hour to reflect the scene read last in the store. At 3:06 a.m. Hermione wrenched from sleep by a spitting, clawing Crookshanks. Scowling at her cat she watched as he ran towards the bedroom door and began frantically pawing at it, mewling like a lost kitten. 

“What is it this time Crooks?” Hermione sighed as she shrugged into her robe. A groan came from above her head and she glanced up. The rattling in the pipes was the worst it had been in the past two weeks and she was surprised she’d slept through it. 

Hermione pulled the door open and Crookshanks shot towards the kitchen, stopping only to turn around when he realized she wasn’t following him. He took a few tentative steps towards her and mewled at her until she followed him into the kitchen. Just as she’d crossed the threshold of the kitchen there was a horrible groan and she turned just in time to see the ceiling cave in above her bed, pipes, plaster, and water spilling all over her bed.

She ran towards the phone and quickly punched in the number for the super, praying that he would answer for once. It rang three times before it was picked up. 

“What d’ya want? D’ya even know what time it is?” Mr. Filch’s croaky voice had never sounded so pleasant before. 

“Mr. Filch, you must turn off the water at once!” Hermione begged as she ran to her room. She began to scoop up as much as she could to take to the kitchen. “The pipes above my bed have broken and there is water going everywhere. What do you mean if I know what time it is? There’s water flooding into my apartment!” She yelled. 

Crookshanks jumped on top of her sofa and began to mewl at her again, looking between the water and her as if demanding for her to stop the water. She listened to the caretaker grouch and heard him slam down the phone, presumably to shut off the water. Hermione rushed back into her room for a second run, glad for once that Neville had talked her into the taller bookshelves.

On her fourth trip the pipes gave one last ominous rattle and the water slowed to a trickle. Hermione sighed in relief and sagged against the wall. Two more trips and a knock came from the door.

“Come to inspect the damage,” Mr. Filch muttered at her when she opened the door. He shoved his way past her into the apartment and stormed into her bedroom. He looked around before turning to her and eyeing her suspiciously. “And how am I to know you didn’t do this yourself?”

Hermione crossed her arms and glared, incensed at the ridiculous question. “Why on earth would I want to ruin my furniture and all of my books? And more importantly how on earth would I manage that?” she asked as she stabbed her finger towards the large hole in the ceiling.

Mr. Filtch scratched the stubble on his chin, still not convinced. “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t be surprised at what you kids these days come up with. You’re going to have to clear this room out before we can do anything about the pipes though. And I doubt the rest of the apartment will be so willing to go without water for that long.”

“I hardly think that’s any of my concern, Mr. Filch,” Hermione hissed, madder at his questioning than she had been when the pipes fell in. “What is your concern, however, is that fact that if I hadn’t been woken up by my cat that you fought so hard against me having her you’d have a far bigger problem on your hands as that is precisely where my head was ten minutes ago.”

Mr. Filch mumbled something unintelligible before telling her that he’d be back in the morning to clean up the water. He left muttering to himself about the how difficult the tenants were and Hermione was convinced that he was more upset about having to check for damages in other apartments than he was that the pipes had burst above her head.

She sighed and resigned herself to a long morning ahead of her. 

xxxx

Crookshanks scowled at that man from his spot on the mantelpiece, certain that he was finally going to take his human away. His ear twitched and he turned to watch his human come back into the room.

“I think that’s the last of it,” that man told his human as he taped up the last box.

“I think you’re right. Thanks again Harry. I don’t think I’d have enough energy to finish this off by myself,” his human said. “I’ll be down in just a minute and we can get lunch, just let me do one last run through to make sure I’ve got everything.”

That man bared his teeth at her and Crookshanks flattened his ears against his head. He watched as that man picked up the last box and walked towards the door. “No trouble at all. Now Neville has two people to get onto for working so late.”

His human bared her teeth at him and laughed. “At least this time he’ll have Crooks for company.” 

His ears perked up at hearing his voice and he jumped onto the TV and mewled at her. His human ran her hand over his head and looked at him. “I know you hate it, but we’re going to have to go to Harry’s until they clean up in here. It won’t be long, I promise,” his human told him. 

Crookshanks watched as she walked out the door and closed it behind her. Crookshanks sniffed and jumped onto the couch for a well-deserved nap.

An hour after his human left, that blasted ringing machine began going off and Crookshanks narrowed his eyes at it. It clicked and he heard his human’s voice. He stood up and stretched, listening for the second click. 

When the curry man’s voice came out of the machine Crookshanks ears perked up and he padded over to the table where the machine lived. His voice had a touch of panic in it and Crookshanks wondered if he’d dropped another vase on the floor. Since curry man was one of the few humans that Crookshanks liked he jumped onto the table and began to rub his head along the grey thing to try and calm the man down.

“Hermione, we’re still in Calais. Looks like we’ll be flying out from here tonight, but we won’t be in until tomorrow night. Listen love, whatever you do avoid the tabloids, it’s just been a big misunderstanding. I’ll explain everything next time I talk to you, just please trust me. There’s no one else but you. Please pick up, I’ll call you tonight after 9,” the man said. He paused a minute before adding, “I love you, just please trust me.”

There was a clicking sound and the man’s voice disappeared suddenly. Crookshanks batted at the squares on the front to get the man to return. He’d done it before when his human was at work but he’d forgotten the right order.

A loud beep and a woman’s voice startled him off the table and Crookshanks ran to the other room to escape it. 

“Message deleted. No new messages.”


	8. Chatter

27 March

Hermione stared at the phone, willing it to properly do its job for once. She been sitting at Harry’s desk since one, feet pulled up under her and a blanket wrapped around her. Her first attempt at calling Fred to let him know that she was bunking with Harry and Neville for the foreseeable future had gone horribly, much worse than when she’d had to demand a refund from the sex shop for the illegally purchased ‘personal massagers’ three months ago. When she rang the hotel in Calais and asked to be transferred to his room she had been told, quite rudely, that there was no one there by that name and to stop calling or charges would be filed. The minute she began to protest the clerk called her mother’s heritage into question and called her either the hell spawn of a vulture or a voyeur before slamming the phone down.

Since then she’d tried to call both his flat and work studio several times with no luck. The phone at the flat was unplugged from the wall while the answering machine at the studio was full. The most likely conclusion was that the flat’s phone line had been damaged from the broken pipes seeping water down the walls while studio’s answering machine was full because no one had been able to clear the messages in a month. Despite knowing it was the obvious reason, Hermione still hadn’t been able to convince herself that something else wasn’t going on.

She heard Harry walk into the room behind her and she turned to watch as he sat down on the arm chair. “Has Nev’s fever broken yet?” she asked.

Harry sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I think so. Whatever the doctor gave him has worked wonders. Don’t think he’s had the flu this bad since we were back in school.”

Hermione tutted at that. Neville had come home two days ago feeling horrid and she hadn’t seen him once since then. “Poor thing. He probably picked it up at the school last week. And you should get enough rest or you’ll be just as sick as he is. The last thing any of us needs now is for you to get the rest of us sick.”

Harry gave her a tired smile and put his feet up on the ottoman. “If I get it you’re going down with me. You always were competitive about that sort of thing.”

She gave a soft laugh at that. Her mother had always joked that if Harry or Neville got sick Hermione’s competitive streak came out to make sure she got just as sick as they did. “You’re probably right about that. Never could stand being left out.”

Harry nodded at the phone and Hermione glanced over at it. “Gotten ahold of anyone yet?” 

Hermione frowned and laid her arm on top of the chair. “No one. Though I did manage to irritate half of France somehow. Do you think he’s avoiding me?”

Harry raised an eyebrow at her question. “Doubt it. Unless you corrected his pronunciation of espresso again. That itself would probably result in a two day time out,” he teased. Hermione scowled at him, not in the mood for Harry’s light teasing. 

“You could always go over there and see if he’s back you know,” Harry suggested gently.

She sighed and leaned her head back onto the chair. “I know. I have to check the post anyways and make sure Filch has started clean up. I suppose I can do it then.”

Harry stood up and grinned at her. “That’s settled then. Now come help me cut up the rest of the chicken. I’m thinking we do a chicken salad for dinner with some soup for Nev.” 

“You just don’t want to go to the store,” Hermione accused as she stood up. 

“Not my fault you won’t go for me. Besides, if I went you wouldn’t have any company but that phone and I doubt that will end well.”

Hermione stuck her tongue out at his back and followed him to the kitchen.

xxxx

28 March

As she stepped out of the Tube entrance, a gust of wind cut through her coat and Hermione pulled her scarf closer. Though it was only a block from her apartment building she quickened her step to avoid the larger than normal crowd around the entrance. On closer inspection, it appeared that those closest to the building were waiting for someone to emerge from the building and she slowed her pace. Rita Skeeter’s words drifted through the back of her mind and a knot began to twist itself into shape in the pit of her stomach.

“Don’t even understand why we’re still out her,” the man blocking her way to the gate said in a rough cockney accent. “Not like they ain’t gone back to Devon already.”

“Cause the boss says we have to,” the man beside him said. “Sides’, Frank over there was saying one of them Weasley boys snuck in late last night and brought a bird with him up the back.”

At the mention of the twins Hermione stopped in her tracks and she held her breath, eager to hear something that would make this whole thing make sense. There was no reason either of them should be getting this much attention. Then again she’d felt the same way with Viktor and look at how that turned out. 

The man in front of her stepped back suddenly, pulling her from her own thoughts, and she had to step quickly to the side to avoid him. A look of recognition crossed his face and he gave her a wide, toothy smile. “Well, well. Goyle, look at who we have here. If it isn’t little Miss Bella Black in the flesh. Never thought we’d see the likes of you again. What on earth are you doing here luv?”

Hermione’s eyes went wide as she finally placed the pair as the reporters who had been assigned to get a quote from her five years ago. Despite being little more than legally sanctioned stalkers, they weren’t all bad. “Mr. Crabbe, how have you been? Mr. Goyle.” She nodded at the man beside him and shook his offered hand.

“Miss Black. Or is it Mrs. LeStrange now?” Goyle asked with a wink.

Hermione grinned that he would remember that particular lie of hers. With the pair sitting outside the apartment day and night for a solid month she’d had to come up with a false identity in order to get out of her apartment without being pestered. Luckily for her the two weren’t well read or they’d have immediately spotted her false name, maiden and married, and the story she’d spun about star crossed lovers and secret weddings during war time. (Now that she’d thought about it, she’d pulled the name and the ridiculous story from Ginny’s debut novel, An Evening at Malfoy Manor.)  
“You have a fantastic memory Mr. Goyle,” she said.

Goyle’s smile only widened at the compliment. “How could I forget those cakes you brought us? Best I’ve ever had. And my congratulations to you and your husband. Do the two of you live here now?” he asked as he nodded at the doors.

Hermione shook her head. “Just visiting a friend is all.”

Crabbe nodded towards the door, still surrounded by people lounging about. “Good luck getting in. That old wanker refuses to let anyone who doesn’t live here in.”

“Really? I wonder why that is,” Hermione asked, trailing off in an attempt to fish some information out of the pair.

Goyle glanced at her, seemingly suspicious of her ignorance on the matter. “Say, Ms. LeStrange. You ain’t friends with those Weasleys are you? Cause it would be a real feather in our cap if you could get us an interview.”

Hermione’s smile tightened and she shook her head. “I’m afraid not. I was not aware they even lived here until just now to be honest with you.

“Shame,” Crabbe said, shaking his head. Goyle continued to look at her but didn’t ask her anything else. “Ah well, could be worse I s’pose.”

“I’m sure you’ll catch them soon. If you’ll excuse me I’m afraid I’m running a bit late,” she told them. 

They parted and Hermione squeezed through the remaining crowd. When she reached the door, she noted that Mr. Filch was sitting at the entrance glaring at anyone who came near. He gave her a dirty look as she slipped through the front door but didn’t say anything. Once inside the foyer Hermione took a deep breath, glad to be out of the crowd. She turned left towards the mailboxes and briefly wondered if she’d see George again.

Hermione quickly opened her box only to find nothing more exciting than bills and flyers. She shut it behind her and began to pull out what she needed to keep and took the rest over to the trash bin in the corner of the room. As she dropped the flyers in a paper lying on the floor caught her eye and as she looked closer she realized it was Fred’s face that was staring back at her. 

She quickly stuffed her mail into her purse and bent to pick up the paper. On the front Fred was seen guiding a stunning blonde woman through a crowd followed by Lee and George, the left side of his head still bandaged from the accident last month. In the corner Fred could be seen coming out of a jewelry store, glancing about and stuffing a bag into his coat pocket. At the top of the paper bright red letters proclaimed ‘Enterprising Engineer Engaged? True Love or Following his Brother’s Lead?’

For a moment Hermione forgot to breathe as she stared at the paper. Was this why she wasn’t able to get a hold of him for a week? She never would have pegged him for the sort, but then again she’d also thought Viktor wouldn’t be the type to have a casual fling all those years ago. Hermione flipped through the paper, desperate to find anything to prove it was just all a big misunderstanding. When she finally found the article and read the byline Hermione began to breathe again. Only Rita Skeeter would be able to shake her so badly with the printed word.

Hermione skimmed through the article, learning for the first time that Fred and George were far more than they’d lead her to believe, and pausing only once she reached the point where Rita Skeeter began to write about the mystery woman.

‘When presented with the opportunity, dear readers, this intrepid reporter was able to track down the entrepreneur’s latest beau outside of the Tour du Guet, a landmark made famous when it was turned into a military post during WWI. When asked for comment, the mystery woman responded in rapid fire French. My dear friends, make no mistake that though this reporter humbly prides herself on a perfect grasp of French grammar, vocabulary, and pronunciation (at this Hermione rolled her eyes hard enough that it was a wonder they didn’t fall out), our mystery woman’s French was nothing more than a feeble attempt at the language of love that only John Cleese could top. 

Despite the woman’s obvious lack of an inherent English sense of politeness and tact, your intrepid reporter was able to discover that the woman was acting as a translator for the twin entrepreneurs and their business partner, one Lee Jordan. It appears that such closeness over the course of a month sparked such a connection that the previously single Fred Weasley decided to purchase an engagement ring from the world-famous Cartier shop in gay Paris according to the lead salesman.”

Hermione stared at the paper, uncertain of how to take it. On the one hand she wanted to scoff at the ridiculousness of the situation. Rita Skeeter was well known for bending the truth almost to its breaking point. But on the other hand she was also smart enough to make sure that there was a big enough kernel of truth in what she reported that it was often hard to figure out what was true and what was sensationalized. 

After a deep breath to calm her nerves she folded the paper and glanced over head. She wanted to check on the progress of the repairs to her flat and Fred’s was on the way. Taking a moment to steel herself against the possibility that the paper held a margin of truth Hermione headed up the stairs. In almost no time she’d climbed the two flights and found herself waiting outside of Fred’s door, folding and unfolding the paper in anticipation.

Just when she was about to give up on waiting, the door was flung open by the mystery woman wearing one of Fred’s oversized t-shirts and no pants. Her eyes were still thick with sleep and her white blonde hair looked as if she’d been asleep for days on end. The woman glared at her and Hermione found that she had lost all grasp of the English language.

“Well?” the woman asked, a French lilt to her voice. Perhaps Rita Skeeter was onto something.

Hermione cleared her throat in an attempt to buy a few more seconds to compose herself. “Is Fred here? I need to speak to him.”

The woman’s face hardened and she crossed her hand across her chest. “Putain! I suppose you are anozer of those fou reporters. As I have told your co-workers he is not available for comment and he will never be available for comment. Casse-toi!”

Though Hermione knew her French was rusty, she found that it was not rusty enough that she didn’t know when she was being cursed at. “I am not a reporter. I live right above him and it is important that I speak with him as soon as possible.”

The woman snorted and pulled the door shut behind her, apparently not caring who saw her in her half-dressed state. “Do you really? Because I was told by building management that the only tenant upstairs was a seventy-year old woman. Despite zis, there have been thirty upstairs neighbors today alone.”

Hermione pursed her lips undeterred by this woman’s refusal to believe her. “I don’t care how many neighbors have come by, I need to speak with him. If you’ll just go get him you’ll –“

“I will do no such thing,” the woman hissed. She jabbed her finger at the paper in Hermione’s hand. “You obviously have ill intentions brining that connerie paper around here. You and your ilk have been hovering and stalking the both of us ever since we landed in Paris. Now leave or I will call the police.”

Paris? Fred hadn’t ever mentioned the possibility of visiting Paris. “Please, listen to me. I know him. We’ve been dating for –“

The woman waved her hands and scoffed. “Yes I’m sure you have been. Just like the other twenty woman who have come by here. Next thing you’ll tell me Molly just adores you . Like I have not heard that one today. Je m'en fous de ça, sale pute. Now leave”

“You listen to me you French twit. I don’t care who you are but I refuse to leave here until I speak with him,” Hermione demanded. She took a step towards the door but was stopped as the woman shoved her hand in Hermione’s face. A large diamond ring sat on the third finger and almost blinded Hermione when it hit the hall light.

“Do you see this salope? This means that we are family and I will not let you or anyone else you work with bother us again tonight. Shoo,” the woman said. She turned to go inside and slammed the door behind her.

Hermione blinked, trying to keep the tears from falling. The paper dropped from her hands and she turned towards the stairwell, completely forgetting about her apartment.

xxxx

Sorry for the late update, really wasn’t feeling up to writing this week. (Also please let me know if any French needs to be corrected. The internet can only let you know so much.)  
Coming up: Malfoy returns, Luna makes an appearance, someone gets punched, someone gets an award, and Fred finally gets a chance to tell his side of things.

10/15/2015 - Thanks so much to Maurane for correcting my horrible lack of French skills! It's always more than appreciated :)


	9. Conjectures

March 31

Harry knocked lightly on the guestroom door, hoping to pull Hermione out of the funk she’d been in the past week. Every day after work Hermione would hole herself up in the guestroom to look over the day’s tabloid papers and run through the files she’d brought home. As much as he loved her, Hermione had a bad habit of overanalyzing every little thing in a relationship, even more so when things went sour. This wasn’t the first time that she’d had to deal with media surrounding a boyfriend, but it was the first time that she hadn’t expected it. Despite knowing that it wouldn’t have made much of a difference Harry still felt guilty about not pushing Neville to let her know who Fred was. At least that way she might have been more on her guard about tabloid fodder.

“Hermione?” he called as he knocked once more. When there was no answer Harry opened the door to find Hermione lying on the bed with Crookshanks, a thick novel in her hands. Hermione looked up and gave him a soft smile before patting the bed beside her. Harry smiled back and sat down on the bed next to her. “Moping about won’t do you any good, you know.”

Hermione sighed and set her book down on the nightstand. “I know it won’t but it makes me feel better about things. I’ve known him for six months and somehow the fact that his face was splashed all over the tabloids eluded me.”

“You never were the most observant when it came to celebrities. Remember Gwenog Jones? It took eight months before you realized you were borrowing milk from the woman who won the World Cup for England,” Harry said. “Didn’t even think to get me tickets either.”

Hermione made a face at him. “How was I to know that’s why she was always out of the country? I thought she was just avoiding me after I’d accidentally let her snake escape.”

Harry snorted at the memory. “Probably why you should talk to him about it then. Avoid finding anymore snakes in the bathroom pipes at least.”

“Yes, because a gorgeous blonde woman in his apartment wearing his shirt isn’t enough to say bugger off,” she scoffed. “You didn’t see the ring she was wearing Harry, you could have landed a plane on it, it was that big. And you’ve seen what she looks like. What chance do I have next to her? She can probably even cook a decent hash too.”

“Look, if Fred wants to be a colossal git and toss you over from some blonde cow who can say croissant properly you’re better off without him. Besides, she’s really not as pretty as everyone seems to think. She’s got a mole right here that looks like Madagascar,” Harry said as he pointed towards his right eyebrow. “Distracts from the rest of her face.”

Hermione laughed at his attempts to comfort her. “Now all I’ll be able to see is that mole. Besides, you’re not one to talk. You’ve always been more partial to redheads.”

“That’s true,” he admitted. “But I really do think you should talk to him about it. I’m sure it’s just one big misunderstanding.”

“But what if it’s not?” she asked in a soft voice. “What if it is all true? Then what?”

Harry gave a loud sigh and thought about it for a moment. “Well, then I suppose we’ll have to go get pissed in Maui for a few weeks and work on our tans. So now that we’ve settled that, come out with Nev and me for dinner tonight.” Hermione glanced over at the folders on her night stand and Harry cut her off before she could mention them. “And you can’t use work as an excuse to not go with us.”

“Fine,” she mumbled before swinging her legs off the bed. “But if you’re dragging me out you’re paying.”

Harry grinned at her, happy to have finally gotten to go out. “So long as that means I pick the place you have a deal.” 

xxxx

3 April

“Hermione Jane Granger, if you’re not dressed and ready in fifteen minutes I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you there myself,” Neville called through the bathroom door. 

Hermione pouted and began toweling off her hair. He’d done that years before when she had refused to attend an old schoolmates wedding last minute. When feigning sickness didn’t work, Hermione had switched tactics and refused to attend on the principal that she had not received her own personal invitation and therefore was not wanted at the wedding. Neville had stormed out of the room and Hermione curled up with a book sure she had won that argument. What she hadn’t counted on, however, was Neville returning ten minutes later to pick her up bridal style and carry into the waiting taxi downstairs. Ever since then Hermione had taken Neville’s time warning as ultimatums not to be taken lightly. 

“I’ll be ready, but just so you know I’m not dressing up any fancier than I normally would,” she called back.

“You say that now, but I’m sure you’ll look stunning as usual. Especially since I switched the clothes you had picked for something more appropriate.” 

Hermione turned to where she’d lain out her clothes on the bathroom counter to find that her sensible black slacks and turtleneck had been replaced with her favorite cocktail dress. She reached out to stroke the periwinkle fabric and smiled at Neville’s choice. “I’ll wear it, but don’t think that means I agree with your decision,” she told him through the door. “But I should be ready by then so long as I can get this Sleekeazy’s of Harry’s to work. Are you sure he said it was meant for all kinds of hair? Somehow I doubt his grandfather met hair like mine before,” Hermione muttered. 

She could hear Neville laughing as he walked away from the door. “Just be ready or I’m sending Harry in after you.” 

xxxx

“I can’t believe you two,” Hermione said as she followed Harry into the hotel lobby. “Honestly, the way you two go about football you’d think the whole world was ending.”

“It’s not my fault the game was running so late,” Neville muttered. “And it’s not my fault Wood and Flint decided to have a ten minute brawl after a red card.” 

“Not like we haven’t been late to these things before,” Harry said as he handed his coat to the clerk behind the counter. “Just thought Manchester would be comfortably up a point or two before we left.”

Hermione tutted and handed her coat over. “It’s not even that important of a game, I just don’t understand why you had to watch it down to the last minute. Now we’re late and we’ve probably missed the whole thing,” she scolded, stepping out of the way to let Neville turn his coat in.

“But it was against Liverpool, Hermione, their biggest rivals. It would be as if, as if,” Harry paused, trying to find some comparison that would make sense to her. He snapped his fingers as one came to him. “As if Hemingway and Faulkner found themselves at the same bar attempting to order the same drink.”

Hermione turned to look at him, surprised that he’d managed to come up with that analogy. “Harry, I’m impressed. I didn’t think you paid any attention to that program last night. Actually, I thought you’d fallen asleep.”

Neville gave her a smirk as he paused at the door to the convention room. “He did. After you’d gone to bed he asked me what he missed,” he told her in a low voice before opening the door and walking into the darkened room. 

Hermione snorted and followed him as they walked along the wall towards an open table as an older woman took the stage and began to welcome the crowd. As the three sat down in their seats the woman began to thank the various donors and volunteers for the time and effort before moving onto the main event for the night. 

“It is my pleasure to have last year’s recipient of the Lion Heart Award with us tonight. Miss Luna Lovegood, as many of you will recall, is in her sixth year of working with high-risk teenagers to explore and discover exciting new facets British folklore and history,” the brunette woman said. The crowd began to clap again and Hermione watched as the waiters began to bring out plates of food. 

After a waiter stepped away from the table, Harry leaned over to ask what exactly a high-risk teenager was. “It makes them sound like a bomb about to go off at any moment.”  
“Have you ever met a teenager? They’re all like that. The ‘high-risk’ ones are like how you were in sixth year, only more so,” Neville said with a grin. Harry at least had the decency to wince at the memory of his younger self. 

Whatever Harry might have said in response was cut short as Luna took the stage in a glaring yellow dress and a headband made to look like lion’s ears. “Since I was asked by Ms. Burbage not to mention all the creatures and beasts that surround us, I suppose I shall thank everyone who helped make the afterschool camp possible. You know who you are,” Luna said. She paused for a minute and the sounds of people shifting in their seats filled the air. “I would also like to warn you to stay away from the pasta salad; it seems to be attracting Cornish pixies and I do not wish for any of you to bring one home with you.” 

A woman at the next table began frantically asking her tablemates what a Cornish pixie was and Hermione bit down hard on her lip to keep from laughing. As much as she dreaded going to this event Luna always had made things more exciting. She watched as Luna looked towards the end of the stage for a moment before facing the crowd again.  
“Mrs. Burbage would like you all to know that there is nothing wrong with the pasta salad nor is there anything else wrong with any of the other food. She would also like me to get on with the presentation of this year’s Lion Heart Award to a Mr. Kingsley Shacklebolt for his work in community outreach,” Luna continued. 

Hermione spun in her seat and looked at Harry. “You didn’t tell me Kingsley was getting an award,” she whispered. Harry only grinned at her as Kingsley took the stage and began to speak. 

Before long all the awards had been passed out and the speeches concluded. As the lights came back on Harry and Neville both stood up, presumably to find their work colleagues. Harry tugged at her arm and nodded his head towards the stage. “We’re going to find Luna if you want to come with,” he offered.

“I’d love to,” she said as she stood up to follow them. 

Despite the crowd they were able to find Luna easily thanks to her overly bright dress. She gave them all a soft smile as they approached and returned Neville’s hug as if she were in a dream. “It is lovely to see you all again. Harry, Hermione,” Luna said in her breathy voice. “Though you look as if a bakhtak has been haunting you Hermione. I hope it has not kept you from sleep.”

Hermione glanced at Neville who only shrugged. Harry was no help either. “Well, at least you look lovely. That color is gorgeous on you,” Hermione said with a tight smile. She’d learned long ago it was best to let Luna’s observations go without much comment.

“Really? That is surprising. I have been staying in a lovely little inn but it seems to be haunted by a mischievous puca. I am certain it is the overripe blackberries they serve but they do not want to listen to reason.”

“Ah, that does sound annoying” Harry said, unsure of what to say. He pulled at his shirt cuffs and glanced about like he was looking for something to talk about. “Are you enjoying your stay at least?”

“Oh yes, very much so,” Luna said. “I had the splendid opportunity to view Newt Scamander’s private collection of Gogmagog bones and selkie furs earlier today. And tomorrow I have managed to schedule an interview with the first man to be attacked by the Highgate Vampire.”

“That does sound rather interesting,” Hermione said as she reached for a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. 

“It is. You are more than welcome to join us if you like,” Luna offered and turned to Neville. “She always has the most interesting and provoking questions doesn’t she? I just know that you would bring another perspective into the discussion.”

Hermione smiled politely and wracked her brain trying to find some excuse to get out of it. “I’m afraid I’ll have to decline, but it does sound like a lovely day. I’ve other plans that I can’t back out of now,” she said, deciding that a good book and a nice cup of tea counted as plans.

“Pity. I will be sure to send you a copy of the interview then. I am sure you will enjoy it. Would you like to join us Harry?” Luna asked. 

Neville shot Harry a pointed look over her shoulder and Harry began to look around the room to avoid his gaze. “Don’t know that I’ll be able to make it. Big things going on tomorrow. And look, there’s Kingsley over there,” Harry said before making his way towards his boss. 

Hermione smiled at Luna as she followed Harry towards the small group that had gathered on the edge of the room. “I thought you were going with them tomorrow?” she asked as soon as she had caught up to Harry.

“I was until Neville mentioned they were going to see that Slughorn man again. Never could figure out how anyone could stand him,” he muttered as they approached Kingsley.  
“There you two are,” Kingsley’s said as he saw them. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

“We would have been here sooner but apparently some people wanted to watch the end of a game,” Hermione said with a pointed look at Harry.

“You saw the end of the game? Who won?” Dean Thomas from the explosives department asked, drawing Harry into a football discussion. 

Hermione rolled her eyes at their one track minds. “Honestly, this time of year you’d think football was the only thing worth talking about,” she said, drawing a chuckle from Kinsgley. “And congratulations to you Commander. Or is it Commissioner now?” she asked with a smile.

“As of today it’s Commander. Ask me again when the ink has dried on Monday,” Kingsley told her with a wink. “But between you and me, I think Commissioner sounds much butter.”

“I do too,” she said. In the past few months she’d been working for him she was able to see why Harry idolized him so much. Though he was strict he was one of the fairest people she’d ever met, relying far more on performance and ability than on pedigree. It was a stark and welcome change of pace from Borgin & Burkes and Hermione was genuinely happy that Kingsley was finally being recognized for his hard work, both at the station and in his outreach programs.

“I’m happy you were able to make it Hermione, it really does mean a lot. Especially after all you’ve been able to do for me and my team since you’ve joined us.”

“I’m glad to be here. And I’m happy to help where I can,” she told him. “I just wish I could do more with some of the older cases.”

“Don’t we all,” he said as he waved at someone across the room. “If you’ll excuse me I need to make the rounds.”

As Kingsley slipped into the crowd a woman with brilliant auburn hair came to stand next to Hermione and began to fiddle with the champagne glass in her hands. Hermione glanced at the woman and wouldn’t have recognized her if she hadn’t seen the edges of a tree nymph tattoo peeking out from under her sleeve.

“Tonks?” 

“Wotcher, Hermione,” she said with a shaky smile. She ran a hand through her short auburn hair and glanced over towards where Harry and Dean were speaking with Remus. 

“You look stunning tonight. I didn’t recognize you with the new hair color,” Hermione said. It was the first time that Hermione had seen the woman with a natural hair color and she had to admit that it suited her.

“You think so? It’s not too much is it?”

Hermione grinned. Only Tonks would think natural hair would be too much. “Not at all. It looks lovely on you.”

“Thanks Hermione,” Tonks said as she relaxed a bit. “And you look lovely as well. Probably the first time I’ve seen you in a dress.” 

“I’m not usually one to dress up but I really do like this dress. You’re looking quite lovely as well, though I could probably guess the reason for the sudden change in style. Or perhaps I should say who,” Hermione said, a coy tone to her voice.

Tonk’s eyes went wide and she snapped her eyes away from Remus. “Is it that obvious?”

Hermione grinned and grabbed two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter. “It’s been that obvious for months,” she said as she handed a glass to Tonks. “This might help to calm your nerves.”

Tonks took the offered glass and downed half of it in one go. “We’re going for a late dinner after this. I just hope things go well. We’ve been dancing about this for ages.”  
“I’m sure it will,” Hermione said in an attempt to reassure the older woman. “He keeps looking at you just as much as you’re looking at him.” 

“Really?” Tonks asked as her eyes slide towards Remus. “Thanks Hermione, I owe you.” Tonks gave her a wink and walked towards where Dean and Harry were reenacting the Wood/Flint brawl for Remus and few other co-workers.

Hermione sipped from her glass and looked around the room to try and find Neville and Luna. Finding them near the dessert table, Hermione began to make her way towards them. Halfway across the room Hermione ran into a tall, well-dressed man and spilt the rest of her drink on his vest. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there,” she said while looking towards the nearest table for a clean napkin. 

“Why Granger, I always knew you fancied me but I didn’t think you’d sink so low as to throw yourself at me,” said the man in a familiar lazy drawl.

At the sound of his voice Hermione stopped her searching and she had to bite her tongue to keep from cursing. “Malfoy,” she said as she straightened. “I didn’t know they were taking the trash in tonight.”

Instead of his usual vitriolic sneer, Malfoy smirked at her, almost as if he found her amusing. “They must have if they’ve let you in.”

Hermione glared at him and stepped to the side, determined to avoid any further conversation with him. Malfoy seemed to have something else in mind as he stepped with her to block her way. “Manners, Granger. Wouldn’t want to be seen snubbing a former co-worker like that would you?”

“If I could get away with it I’d do far worse,” she hissed.

“And I’d love to let you,” Malfoy said as his smirk turned lecherous.

Disgusted, Hermione scoffed and shoved her way around him. Of all the people to see tonight, he was the second to last on her list and he was close to nudging past Rita Skeeter to first place. Hermione all but ran towards where Neville was seated with a cup of tea, desperate to get away from her former lead. 

As she sat down Hermione was ready to go into a full blown rant until she saw the pallor of Neville’s cheeks. “Still feeling sick?”

“A bit. Doubt I’ll last the whole night,” Neville admitted. He lifted the lid off a jar and stirred in a spoonful of honey.

“Poor thing. Let me know if you need a partner to plan your escape. I just ran into Malfoy. I’ve never met a man who could ruin an evening just by being there.”

Neville scrunched up his face in disgust. “What is that wanker doing here? Don’t tell me he’s gotten some philanthropy award too.”

Hermione snorted at the thought. “God no. The only thing he knows about philanthropy is that he can’t spell it and his family is chronically allergic to it.” 

As a precaution Hermione glanced about her to make sure Malfoy hadn’t followed her over to the table. A shock of red hair across the slowly thinning room caught her eye and she stood up for a better look. When it finally clicked what she was seeing she sat down hard and drew in a deep breathe. “Neville,” she whispered, “he’s over there across the room. And he’s brought her with him.”

“Who, Malfoy?” he asked as he began to stand up to get a better look. When he saw who she meant he looked at her. “That’s her?” Hermione nodded and Neville sat back down. “I can’t believe he would actually bring her to this. And here I was rooting for him all this time,” he said with a hint of disbelief in his voice. “Do you want to leave?”

“Would you mind?” Hermione asked. Thought she knew that she would have to speak to Fred about the whole tabloid affair at some point, she was not in the state to do so nor was this the appropriate place to sort out their relationship. She desperately wanted to leave before he noticed her but Neville seemed to know far more people here than she did. As sweet as his offer was, the last thing Hermione wanted to do was to force Neville to leave a party he wanted to attend.

He gave her a soft smile and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Not at all. I’ve been trying to figure out a polite way to get away from all this and crawl back into bed actually. Tea, cough syrup, and Frank Skinner have been the only things on my mind since they brought out the coffee.”

“I appreciate it. Let me say goodbye to a few people and I’ll meet you up front at coat check?” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Neville said as Hermione stood up to try and track down her coworkers to say good night.

xxxx

Neville smiled and shook Mr. Diggory’s hand. He’d been pulled into a conversation with the local politician and hadn’t been able to pull away for the last ten minutes. With any luck Hermione was still chatting with her co-workers and wasn’t waiting for him anxiously in the lobby. 

“It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Diggory, and I’ll definitely give you a ring to bring the kids around next month.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, son,” Mr. Diggory said around the unlit cigar he had in his mouth. “It’s good to finally put a face to your name and I look forward to giving your students a tour around Parliament. Now, which was did they say the desserts were?”

Neville pointed him in the right direction and as soon as the man’s back was turned he let out a large yawn. A few hours ago he really had thought he was up for tonight, but it seemed that the older he got the longer it took him to fully recover from the flu. Whatever it was he’d come down with had affected the entire faculty and half the student population. The only faculty that hadn’t been affected was Snape but then again there was a betting pool as to whether or not the man was a vampire.

“Are you feeling alright?” Harry asked as he came up behind Neville. “You don’t look so good.”

Neville yawned again and waved off Harry’s concern. “Afraid I’m going to have to call it a night. I’m feeling absolutely dreadful. Hermione and I are going to head out in a few minutes. Apparently Fred’s here and he brought that woman that’s been in the papers lately.” Neville watched as Harry’s eyes darkened and he began to glance around the room. Harry had always had a protective streak, scarily so sometimes, and Neville was glad that he’d given him a heads up. Otherwise there was no telling what Harry would say if confronted. 

“And you’re sure it was him?”

“Positive. We’re meeting up front in a minute if you want to go with,” Neville offered.

“Kingsley wants me to go around and meet more people,” Harry said. “Apparently he wants to show off how well the department’s been doing lately.”

“You mean how well you and Hermione have been doing lately,” Neville said with a grin. “He wouldn’t stop bragging about either of you when I went to speak with him.”  
“Really?” Harry’s cheeks took on a light pink tone and he ran his hand through his hair.

“Really. And it’s nothing to be embarrassed about, you two really are brilliant at what you do. Now if you could only find a halfway decent strategist neither of you would go rushing headfirst into things.”

Harry chuckled at his words. “We’re not that bad, especially when you compare us with Dean and Seamus.”

“Either way the two of you will make me go gray before my time. I still need to find Zacharias to make sure he’s still on tomorrow, so I’ll see you at home yeah?” Harry nodded and kissed him on the cheek before making his way back over to Kingsley and Remus.

xxxx

Harry nodded as he listened to Mr. Thicknesse’s theories on how to better manage the city’s police budget. All night he’d felt like one of those nodding dogs, never able to get more than three words in before the person he was speaking too began talking over him. If this is what Kingsley meant by speaking with the community Harry was more than happy to stay a constable for the rest of his career.

“Oh, and this here my dear boy, is one of the finest men I have ever had the pleasure of doing business with,” Mr. Thicknesse said as he grabbed the arm of a passing man and yanking him into their conversation.

Harry stiffened and narrowed his eyes as he realized Thicknesse had brought Fred into the conversation. “We’ve met,” he said in a clipped tone. Fred gave him a strange look but Harry ignored it in favor of glaring at him. 

“Splendid, splendid. Then I’m sure the both of you have many things to talk about,” Mr. Thicknesse said as he clasped his hands together and looked back and forth between the two of them.

“No, I’m afraid not. Now if you’ll excuse me,” Harry said as he walked away. As dearly as he loved Kingsley there were some lines he would not cross when it came to Hermione and Neville. And speaking to the man who looked to be intent on ignoring her and breaking her heart was one of them.

“Let me apologize for my friend Mr. Potter there. He normally isn’t like this, I assure you,” Mr. Thicknesse said.

“Potter? As in Harry Potter?” Fred asked and Harry rolled his eyes as he continued to walk towards the exit. Forgetting a man you’d had several dinners with was another point against him and Fred had very little points left to spare. “Hold on a second, Fred needs to talk to you,” he called out as he finally caught up to Harry.

“Fred?’ Harry asked. He took a closer look at the man and noted a large hole where the man’s left ear should be. “You must be George then.”

George grinned broadly and held out his hand, much more excited to see Harry than Harry was to see him. Harry only glanced at the hand and George dropped it when he realized that Harry was ignoring it. 

“Right, well. It’s great to finally meet you. Fred’s had nothing but fantastic things to say about you. Just wish it hadn’t taken this long to finally meet you outside of the mail box,” George said lightly. 

Harry continued to stare at George, wanting nothing more than to follow Neville out the door. As the silence stretched on George shifted about in obvious discomfort. “Hermione’s not here is she? Haven’t heard from her in a while, what with everything going on and her apartment being flooded –“

“She’s already left,” Harry said cutting him off. He turned abruptly, not even bothering to say anything further, and began walking towards the lobby to try and shake George off. Normally Harry refused to let himself get invested in Hermione’s romantic entanglements, but she’d already gone through this sort of thing once before with dreadful results. Harry’s patience was also wearing thin after dealing with so many sycophants trying to get into Kingsley’s good graces that he had no desire to get in the middle of anything else tonight.

“Really? You don’t happen to know where she’s been staying have you?” George asked as he followed Harry, his long legs easily keeping up. “Fred’s been having a terrible time with all of it, not being able to get ahold of her and being hounded by so many reporters everywhere. I mean, him and Fleur really? And Gin’s been finding the whole thing hilarious because it’s Fleur of all people, but really it’s just been one big interruption for us. Haven’t been able to get anything done at all with the business, look mate, will you stop for a minute?” George asked as they crossed over into the lobby.

Harry stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose. After speaking with more people tonight than he had in the past week, he was developing a full blown headache and a distaste for anyone in a tie. Now that Hermione’s love life was thrown in Harry was ready to leave the entire night behind him for a lager and a good night’s rest. 

“Look, George, I don’t know what Fred’s told you about me and I really don’t care. But if either of you think I’m going to let your brother drag Hermione’s life into the papers again and make her the other woman then you must be delusional. She’s already had to deal with men like your brother and reporters like that Skeeter woman more often than anybody should have to. And the only reason I haven’t cut all ties to your company is because it’s actually trying to make a difference in this damned city. Now the both of you leave her alone or I will cut ties and make sure she never has to deal with either of you again,” Harry said in a low voice.

George’s eyes went wide as Harry’s words hit him. “You don’t really believe what those papers are saying do you? Look, the whole thing has gone tits over arse for something so ridiculous. The whole thing with Fleur is an absolute lie, they’re not engaged, they can’t be engaged. She’s –“

A sharp cracking noise cut George off and both men whipped around to see Hermione standing over a blonde man, shaking her hand out and speaking angrily to him. They were both so shocked at the scene they could only watch as she turned on her heel and snatched her coat from Neville before walking out the door.

“Bloody hell, mate. Don’t think you have to worry about Fred hurting her. Think you might want to warn Fred though,” George said as he stared at the man still lying on the ground.

Harry sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He weighed the options and decided that it would be easier to get this entire ordeal out of the way as soon as possible. “There’s a pub a few blocks down, the Leaky Cauldron. Meet me there in a half-hour and bring your idiot brother with you. I’d like to have a few words with him.”

George gave him a grin and walked back into the conference room. Harry leaned against the wall and took a moment before going back in himself.

xxxxx

Hermione gave Tonks a hug and grinned at Remus. “You two have fun tonight, but not too much. Don’t want to start any rumors,” she teased.

Remus grinned back, in a far better mood tonight than he had been in a while. “Thanks, Hermione. Have you seen Harry? Sirius is coming back from America next week and I wanted to be the first to tell him. If we’re sneaky enough we might even be able to surprise the old dog at the airport.”

“Over by Kingsley, I think. He’ll be here for a while longer though so you should be able to catch him.”

“We’ll be off then. See you on Monday,” Tonks said with a wink. She grabbed Remus’ arm and lead him towards where Kingsley was last standing. 

Hermione smiled and began to make her way towards the lobby, stopping a few times to say goodbye to the people she’d been introduced to that night. As soon as she’d bid farewell to the last person, a hand slipped around her waist and began to guide her off to the side of the room. Hermione turned to find Malfoy looking straight ahead, his regular smirk plastered on his face.

“Malfoy, get your dirty hands off me right now,” she hissed at him. She clawed at his hand and took a step back when he finally released her. 

“Swear you’ll what? Make a scene? You’re far too prim for that sort of thing,” he said cooly. “Besides, I think we both know how you really feel. You’ve been watching me all night.”  
Hermione gagged at the thought. “If anything I’ve been avoiding you. I feel nothing but utter hatred for you Malfoy, now leave me alone,” she spat out. She continued to make her way towards the door. When Malfoy fell into step next to her Hermione had to grind her teeth together to keep from screaming.

“Come now Granger, you can’t deny this thing between us forever. We both know the only thing that kept you from shagging me senseless was the fact that you worked under me. Now that we’re no longer working together,” Malfoy said, trailing off suggestively.

Hermione came to a stop inside the lobby and looked at him in shock. One person couldn’t possibly be this delusional. “Malfoy, the only thing I’d like between the two of us are a few oceans and a restraining order. You’re nothing but an evil, racist, sexist prat and I want nothing to do with you.”

“Deny it all you want my dear, but I’m sure one night with me can change that brilliant little mind of yours,” he purred as he leaned towards her to caress one of her curls.  
Hermione slapped his hand away and took several steps back. “Don’t ever touch me again, Malfoy. Or do you need a repeat of what happened the last time you tried to come onto me?” 

Malfoy only laughed and stepped closer. Was he really this used to getting his own way that he viewed others as nothing more than playthings or was he just that narcissistic? He closed the distance and began to bend his head closer towards her as if to kiss her. “No one’s around to see us Granger so there’s no need to act offended. We both know you want me.”

Hermione stumbled back away from him, only for Malfoy to follow. She swung her fist around to ward him off, her body working quicker than her brain. To both of their surprise her fist connected and a loud crack filled the lobby. Malfoy stumbled back and tripped on his own feet to land solidly on the floor. Hermione’s vaguely felt a throbbing in her hand and it brought her anger to the forefront of her mind.

“You foul, lying, evil little cockroach,” she hissed as she shook out her hand. “If you ever come within ten feet of me again I will file a restraining order against you quick enough you’ll be thrown in jail. How delusional do you have to be to even think a single atom in my body was attracted to you? You’re nothing more than a foul, spoiled little arsehole who has no feelings or consideration for anyone other than yourself. If I ever found an iota of attraction to you I’d tie a block of concrete to my feet and throw myself into the Thames,” she said shrilly.

Hermione spun on her heel quickly, not caring if he was injured, and stalked towards Neville. She grabbed her jacket from him and threw the door open, not bothering to put it on until she was well out the door.

As Neville followed, Malfoy’s voice carried out with him and she could hear him whining to anyone who would listen. “Is that blood? Look at this, look at what she did to me, I’m bleeding!”

xxxx  
I know I said Fred would get a chance to say what happened in France in this chapter, but it’s been almost two weeks and I feel guilty for not updating since then. So instead, have what is, probably, one of the longest scenes I’ve written to date.


	10. Contact

April 5

As she stepped onto the pavement Hermione stomped her feet to try to regain some feeling in her toes. She'd waited on the train for ages and the bitter, damp wind cut through her jacket enough to make it useless. Now that she'd finally made it to Charing Cross Road it seemed as if the wind and the rain had picked up to make up for the time she'd been in the Tube.

It had been cold and rainy since yesterday and Hermione had been loath to leave the warmth of her comforter. She'd even thought to put off her meeting with Fred to avoid going outside but Luna and Harry had both made sure she'd left early. Harry's reason for getting her out of the house was readily apparent. Ever since the dinner on Friday Harry had been after her to agree to meet with Fred, sending her point looks and telling her the whole thing really was a misunderstanding.

Luna on the other hand had decided that Hermione's constant moping about was driving the spirits away. So at 7 a.m. Luna had burst into the guest room with a cup of tea and the intent to create a more inviting atmosphere for contacting the great beyond. Hermione's response was that the spirits probably had better things to do and were only using her mood as a polite excuse to get out of the invitation. She knew that's what she'd have down if company rang while she was trying to enjoy her morning cup of tea. Luna only gave her that long, soul-searching stare of hers until Hermione finally agreed to leave the house.

It wasn't until Harry had brought up Fred for the fourth time, however, that Hermione finally showered and dressed, leaving the house in almost record time. Though that was mostly to avoid Luna's chanting, the smell of burning sage, and Harry's exasperated sighs when he had to go fan at the smoke alarm.

At the heart of it, Hermione knew she was acting like a child trying to avoid a trip to the dentist. She'd come up with a number of excuses, from having to brush Crookshanks to claiming swollen tonsils (the latter of which would have worked had Neville not conveniently remembered that she'd had those out when she was nine), none of which worked on Harry. It wasn't until Harry asked her point blank what she was so scared of that Hermione really began to think about it. The possibility that Fred really was engaged to some strange French woman stung, yes, and she'd miss him horribly if it were true, but Harry had assured her that wasn't the case, even going so far as to swear on the grave of his first dog, Hedwig.

If she really was honest with herself, Hermione knew she was still skittish about a long term relationship with anyone and especially with someone who was so well known. She'd been burnt badly enough by the fallout from dating Viktor and even more so by the horrible end to her relationship with Theo. As a result Hermione had been wary of ever opening herself up again to another person as quickly as she had with Fred. And the ease and comfort of their relationship scared her that she began to wonder if she was only looking to find something to end things in order to protect her future heart.

Harry was right about one thing though. She and Fred got along splendidly and things were going along quite smoothly between them. Whether or not things ended up long-term didn't really matter though. What mattered was that right now they seemed to fit. It was the what-if's that got to her though. And most importantly there were no major red flags, no naked women jumping out of closets at her, and no MI5 agents interrupting a date in the middle of Leicester Square.

And then there was still the issue of Fred quite clearly failing to inform her that he was more than he made himself out to be. Instead of being just Fred, her quirky and intelligent neighbor that had caused her cat to put on far too much weight to be good for him, he was also a highly competent engineer, one who had caught the attention of the business community and the media. Ever since she'd found out about it Hermione had gone back and forth in an endless loop trying to decide if she'd have done anything differently if she'd known. The Hermione now knew that she would have done the same thing; the Hermione back in September was a different story.

So with an hour to kill, Hermione made her way to the bookstore across from the diner where they had their first date. With any luck she'd be able to find something to take her mind off of what might be said. It wasn't long before Hermione had purchased the newest book in the ongoing series following Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindlewald. She ordered a coffee and sat down at a table in the adjoining café, eager to begin reading about the two wizards' latest exploits. Though the first few chapters were background to catch new readers up, Hermione quickly found herself wholly engrossed by the fourth chapter. . Now in their early twenties, Albus and Gellert's politics on wizards and non-wizards were quickly diverging, their arguments on the proper place of magic in the world setting up their inevitable split.

So engrossed in their philosophical arguments Hermione failed to hear her name being called. It wasn't until the person stepped into her line of sight that she realized there was someone trying to get her attention. Probably another irate clerk come round to make sure she'd bought the book. With a small sigh of disappointment, Hermione fished the receipt out of the back of the book and held it out as she finished the paragraph. When the person didn't take it Hermione looked up and almost knocked over her coffee out of shock.

"Sorry about that, didn't mean to scare you. Just, you didn't respond the first few times," Fred said with a shy smile that looked horribly out of place on him.

"I, it's fine. You just startled me is all. I wasn't expecting you to be here, let alone," she glanced down at her watch, "twenty minutes early."

Fred shrugged, his posture stiff and unnatural. "Didn't expect to be here twenty minutes early to be honest with you. George got tired of me this morning I guess and pushed me out the door. Went to go back in only to find he'd taken my keys."

Hermione laughed softly. It certainly did sound like something George would do. He'd done locked her out of her own flat before when she'd promised him a scone from the café near her office and had forgotten. The stubborn man hadn't let her in until she'd come back with one from the shop down the street. She hadn't been able to be too mad with him though; in her absence he'd done her dishes, swept and mopped her floor, and organized her record collection for her.

"Luna threw me out as well. Apparently the spirits like happy, cheerful people to brighten up the doldrums of the afterlife. If you're moody you'll just drive them away. Luna said it was a reminder of the grey haze they were forced to roam the earth in," she said with a smirk on her face. As much as she loved Luna, they differed greatly on which side of reality was the right one.

Fred gave her a quizzical look. "And I thought Lee was an odd one."

"You have no idea," she told him with a roll of her eyes. "I now know enough about the afterlife I'm pretty sure I could start my own ghost consulting detective agency."

"Er, right then. Do you want to?" Fred asked with a jerk of his thumb towards the diner. "Or would you rather stay here?"

"Food would be nice. But I'm fine with whatever you'd like," Hermione said.

An awkward silence replaced what had been a seemingly normal conversation between the two of them. Hermione chewed her lip as she looked at Fred for the first time in what felt like forever. He'd let his hair grow out, probably as a comfort for George more than as a fashion statement, and he looked as if he hadn't shaved in a week. Which meant that it had been George she'd seen at the event, not Fred. That did throw a wrench in her conjectures, didn't it?

She watched as Fred brought his hand up to rub at the back of his neck, the only tell of his that showed he was nervous. His hands were covered in plasters, a sure sign that he'd been in the studio all week, far too focused on what he was doing to really pay attention to where his hands were at. He always did say the plasters were a badge of honor, much like the ink stains she often came home with after a long day at the office. And she'd always replied that at least hers didn't bring with it the possibility of dismemberment.

It wasn't really until that moment that it really hit her how quickly she was falling for the man in front of her despite all her previous reservations and worries. With a start at that thought, Hermione jumped up quickly, her chair scraping behind her and the table wobbling. She and Fred both reached to steady the table and the still full coffee cup, their hands coming to rest next to each other. It wasn't until everything calmed down that Hermione glanced at Fred, only to find him staring back at her.

With a forced laugh she pulled her hand back and gathered her purse and book to keep from reaching out to him. She still hadn't heard his side of things yet and she knew that if they went on like this she'd do her best to avoid asking him.

"Shall we then?" Hermione asked in a bright, and forced, tone.

Fred nodded and gave her a tight smile. He turned without another word and headed towards the front of the store. Hermione sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she tried to compose herself for the worst. As her mother had always told her, it was best to prepare for the worst and pray for the best. And right now with Fred's stiff demeanor Hermione had a feeling it might be the former. She followed Fred across the street, pausing only to flash her receipt at the cashier, and trailed after him to the diner.

Between the early hour and the chilly weather the café was relatively empty but for a trio of German students on holiday, an elderly couple in the corner, and a frazzled looking waitress. Tactfully, and with Hermione's silent gratitude, Fred took a table away from the other customers. After a moment's hesitation and a mental war on where to sit, Hermione slowly pulled out the chair across from him. Fred raised an eyebrow at her odd behavior but made no comment.

"Bit chilly out, isn't it?" Fred asked.

"Very," Hermione answered, trying not to wince at the stilted conversation between them.

Luckily, any further talk about the weather or, heaven forbid, sports, was interrupted by the waitress coming by to take their drink orders. As she left, a silence fell between the two. Hermione fiddled with her fork and tried to get up the nerve to start the conversation.

"Harry said you were staying with him," Fred said.

Grateful that she didn't have to be the one to start the conversation, Hermione set her knife back down and looked at Fred. "For the last two weeks. The roof caved in right above my bed. It would have taken me with it if it weren't for Crookshanks turning me into a scratching board that night."

"Remind me to give him a new can of tuna when I see him next," Fred said with a soft smile.

"Well, perhaps you should give it to Mr. Filch instead. He promised me that everything would be repaired by last week but so far they haven't even replaced the pipes yet from what Mrs. Pomfrey's told me. She does appreciate the burly construction workers though. Apparently it's a welcome change from Crookshanks."

Fred snorted. He'd been on the receiving end of her neighbor's more well-intentioned compliments. "Wondered about that. Went upstairs when I got back from Mum's to find nothing but a bunch of burly construction workers. I do have to admit, finding out that it took you ten men to replace me was flattering until I found out from Fleur that the roof had caved in. I went to ask your neighbor and she told me the whole story. Wouldn't give me a number to reach you though, said I didn't look trustworthy enough even though she never complained before."

"Probably something to do with that thing on you face," Hermione teased. The tension from earlier was slowly lifting as they fell back into their usual patterns. That was the lovely thing about Fred, he always did make everything seem easily possible.

"Thing, what thing?" he asked with a ghost of his usual smile on his face.

"You've got something here," she told him, pointing to her own chin. "And over here, and a bit move over here. It does nothing for your complexion."

He rubbed his hand against the growth and chuckled. They were interrupted by the waitress bringing their drinks by, leaving just as quickly with their food orders.

"Yeah, haven't had much time to do much of anything between running from the tabloids, keeping Mum away from the wedding plans, and trying to catch up on the orders we had to put off. Well, that and you," he said.

Hermione met his eyes and waited for him to continue. He stared at her for a moment before picking up his coffee and drinking from it, apparently not willing to continue without prompting. "Me? What do I have to do with you not shaving?" she whispered, though they both knew the answer.

Fred gave her a pointed look before continuing. "You are aware that I haven't been able to get ahold of you in almost two weeks now. When a bird you're serious about gets up and flies off one does tend to start thinking the problem is you."

Hermione glanced away towards the bookshop, unsure of whether the sloshing feeling in her stomach was from guilt or fear. She swallowed hard as she realized for the first time that she hadn't thought what her sudden disappearance would look like from his end. It wasn't the first time that she'd been so wrapped up in herself that she'd pushed everything away from her and ended up hurting someone in the process. Steeling herself, Hermione turned back to face the inevitable anger only to find Fred still staring at her.

"I did try to contact you. While you were in Calais. And then again last week, but your phone was off the hook and the studio's machine was full," she told him in a soft voice. Fred made a noise that almost sounded like surprise but Hermione continued on before he could speak. "And apparently you'd already check out at the hotel. They refused to even admit you'd ever been there and when I tried to tell them you were waiting for my call they insulted my mother."

"You're joking," Fred said, confusion written on his face. Hermione shook her head and Fred muttered something about never letting Lee book a hotel again.

"It was odd, but I didn't think much of it at the time. It didn't make much sense until the next day when I went by the flat to check the mail. I didn't even know about the papers yet. I just thought you'd left and hadn't been able to ring. It wasn't until I saw your face splashed across a paper in the rubbish pile that I found out about, well about everything."

"Hermione, I promise you it's not what you think," Fred said. "Everything went tits over teakettle in France and –"

The waitress interrupted again, this time with their breakfast. They both watched in silence as she placed the plates in front of them, along with another cup of coffee. It wasn't until she was well-out of earshot that Hermione began again.

"It's just that woman –"

"Nothing like what was –"

They both paused, realizing that it would do no good to speak over the other. Fred motioned for her to continue and began to cut up his overly large waffle.

"I really did think it a big misunderstanding at first. Especially with it being written by Rita Skeeter. And if it was true, well you were just two floors up so it only made sense to pop round and ask you about it. So you can imagine my surprise when that French woman opens your door, no trousers on and in your old rugby shirt. Then she waves this huge ring in my face, calls me quite a few names in French, then tells me to sod off,," Hermione said. She picked at her eggs, her stomach gone sour at the thought of that woman again.

She jerked her head up at the sound of cutlery clattering onto the plate only to find Fred staring towards kitchen, his hand over his mouth and his jaw clenched. Whatever she had said it must have been bad; she'd never seen him this angry, not even when he found out a major competitor had nicked one of their schematics for a fuel injector and sold it overseas. Was it because the cat was finally out of the bag about the woman? Or was she again looking at puzzle with one piece missing?

"Fred?" she said after a moment.

"I don't care how fond Bill or Dad is of her, she's the first one to try out our new hair dye. Hell for that I'll even let Gin and Mum do it," he muttered. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before turning back to his plate and picking up his fork.

Hermione's brow furrowed and she realized that he'd been unknowingly keeping the last piece in his pocket this whole time. "Fred? Who was that woman?"

Fred quirked an eyebrow at her and gave her a wry smile. "That would be Phlegm, my lovely sister-in-irritation. She was our tour-guide slash translator for the trip, but about a week in George and I were more than willing to give French a go ourselves and ship her back ourselves."

Oh. Hermione blinked as all the pieces of the puzzle finally clicked into place for her. No wonder she'd said she was family. "But why was she in your apartment without trousers on? And in your rugby shirt of all things?"

Fred groaned and rubbed at his eyes. "Oh god, I'm going to have to burn that shirt now. Probably still smells like that perfume she wears that smells like rotting flowers." He sighed and leaned forward onto his elbows, his waffle now forgotten. "It does look pretty bad on my side, doesn't it?" he finally said with a smile. "Christ Hermione, if I'd have known. Look, didn't you get my message?"

"Message? The last I heard from you Lee had decided to drag you out to some pub."

"So you didn't," Fred trailed off and Hermione shook her head. "Bollocks that does explain a lot." Fred sighed again and picked up his coffee cup. "If I'd known that I never would have gone to Mum's after we landed."

"Your mother's? You weren't at your apartment then?"

Fred shook his head. "No. Went back to Devon for a few days. Thought things might die down for a bit. And Bill came in from Tinworth for hols and they stayed at the apartment since George and Ang were heading up to see her folks in Ipswitch. Why she was wearing my shirt is another question, but she wasn't there for me." Fred paused and a grimace came over his face. "Scratch burning my shirt, I'll have to burn the entire bedroom. Don't think I'll be able to go in there without having nightmares."

"Poor baby," Hermione said dryly, impatient for him to get on with it. "But if that's your sister-in-law what were the two of you doing in a church speaking with a priest?"

Fred's eyes flew wide. "They even got a picture of that? Are there no boundaries?"

Hermione grimaced. "Not for the tabloids. They'll buy pictures off people from the street if they have to."

Fred sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Guess that means Bill knows by now. Fleur's pregnant again and wanted to go speak with Father Bordeux about having him do the baptism. She's flown him in for their wedding and all the baptism's and she refuses to let anyone else do it. I was dragged along with her since Lee and George were lucky enough to still be sleeping off their hangovers. Apparently she doesn't trust the trains for 'an expectant mozher traveling alone,'" he said with a horrendously over the top French accent that Hermione couldn't help but giggle at.

"I'm glad to hear that the two of you aren't," Hermione paused and waved her hand.

"Oh god no, never," Fred said with a surprised look on his face. "She's alright for Bill I suppose but she's wound far too tight for me. Never meet a woman who didn't pack a thing for a month-long trip just so she could buy an entirely new wardrobe."

Hermione took a bite of her now cold eggs and grimaced at the taste. Her hash would probably be just as bad and she pushed her plate away from her. There was something else, but what was it? Right. Cartier's.

"What about the ring though?"

"Hmm? What ring?" Fred asked over his coffee cup.

"The one from Cartier's. It was all over the papers, apparently you'd come out of there with a ring," she said before taking a drink from her tea.

Fred squinted as he tried to remember a ring. "You mean Ang's ring?" Hermione only shrugged. "Has to be. It's the only ring I've ever picked up in my life. After all this whole mess exploded over her Angelina took the first flight out to meet us in Calais, probably to chew me out if it were true. D'you know she's claimed you in the event of us breaking up? Apparently one Weasley is more than enough for her."

Hermione blushed and looked down at her tea. It had never occurred to her that Angelina might think so highly of her especially since she always seemed so quiet whenever Hermione saw her.

"Anyway, George had scheduled a pickup for a ring he'd had custom made but with Angelina flying in he couldn't leave without her going with him. Worst of all, she and Lee have known the two of us for long enough so we couldn't just switch places. Cartier's on the other hand," Fred trailed off with a wink. "When I went to pick up the ring for George some woman in red was there to catch the whole thing on film. She was so quick I didn't even have time to react. Just a flash then she was gone."

"Woman in red? Was she about my height with platinum blonde hair and horn-rimmed glasses?" Hermione asked quickly.

"Looking like she stepped out of the 1960's? Why, do you know her?"

Hermione groaned and leaned back against her chair. Could she never escape that horrible woman? "Unfortunately. She's the one who broke the story about Viktor and me six years ago," she said hoping that would be enough to satisfy him. Unfortunately she'd forgotten how curious Fred could be.

"Story? I thought the split was amicable and you two were still friends."

"We are. Now. But that took a while and a lot of groveling on his part," Hermione said softly. She waved at the waitress for another cup of tea before continuing. "Back then we'd only been dating for eight months before he had to move to Italy. He'd been traded and since he was relying on his work visa to stay here he didn't have much choice but to go. I would have gone with him but Mum had just been diagnosed and I couldn't leave her. We tried the long distance thing and it worked for a while but I think we were just trying to hold onto something that wasn't there anymore.

"So we just kept things going like we always had. A few letters every month, phone calls late at night, and empty promises to see each other soon. It wasn't until I woke up six months after he'd left with reporters swarming around my building that I found out he'd already moved on without the courtesy of letting me know. Of course that was far better than what Theo did. According to the papers he'd caught the eye of some French model and they'd moved in together. Viktor, that is," she said as she stirred honey into her tea.

"Is that how you ended up in the papers?"

Hermione nodded. "Apparently Rita Skeeter had been following Viktor for a while and she'd gotten ahold of my phone bills and pieced the whole thing together. Then she spun it so that I was the other woman who refused to let go. Suppose there was some element of truth to that though. But then I found out the she'd been going to the hospice my mother was at claiming to be an old school friend to grill my mother for information. She didn't realize that by that point Mum had long ago forgotten about me," she said with a mirthful chuckle. "By that point she thought she was Monica Wilson and she ran a dentistry practice in Australia with my father."

It was Fred's turn to run out of things to say and Hermione took the moment to finish off the rest of her his waffle.

"So I took her to court and got a restraining order against her for my entire family. And I'd forgotten about it until now but I did run into her about a month after you'd left. She warned me about something like what they printed, that you'd find some French woman."

Fred was silent for a moment. "And that Theo bloke? What about him?"

Hermione chuckled. She should have known Fred would have caught that. "He came a few years after Viktor. Harry never cared for him, claimed he looked too much like a snake. Theo was," Hermione paused and sighed. How would you explain the most serious relationship you'd ever had? "Theo was Theo. He was intelligent, witty, caring. But he could also be biting, moody, and mean in the same minute. But we worked well together and I thought myself in love with him. I thought we'd have the forever thing, the two point five kids and a yard, him commuting into London to sell property and me working hard to make the world a better place.

"I seemed to be the only one with that idea though," Hermione said with a wry smile. She lifted up her cup and took a sip. "I'd come home from work early one day to find that Theo had moved all of my things outside our flat with a note taped to it. 'You're lovely but you're not my idea of a long-term investment. I've been looking for new opportunities for months now; new girlfriend in tomorrow. Early morning showing, please be a dear and keep the noise down.' Harry almost tore the door down trying to get to him and Neville was ready to help him."

"Can't say I blame them. He sounds like an absolute wanker. Does explain why you thought I might have thrown you over though," Fred said. "Between those two and the tabloids I'm surprised you're even talking to me now."

"Must be your charm and your wit," Hermione teased.

"Or my fame. You are dating a celebrity now m'deary," he said with a wink.

Hermione pursed her lips, glad that he'd brought it up before she did. "Why didn't you tell me that you and your brother –"

A large hand clapped her on the shoulder and Hermione almost fell out of her seat in surprise. "Mrs. LeStrange, how nice it is to see you again. And this must be Mr. LeStrange?"

She turned to find Mr. Crabbe standing behind her and looked about the restaurant until she spotted Mr. Goyle taking a seat in the booth behind them. He waved and Hermione gave him a smile.

"It is indeed Mr. Crabbe. I didn't expect to see you again so soon. How has your mother been lately? Is her goiter better?" she asked with a smile. Mr. Crabbe nodded and Hermione glanced at Fred. To her relief he had a pleasant smile on his face but she didn't much care for the mischievous gleam in his eyes.

"Much better, thanks for asking. How was your friend doing?" Mr. Crabbe asked and Hermione cursed his excellent memory.

"Far better than when I visited. She had a bit of a mix up with her neighbor but she's got it all sorted now," she lied, trying to keep her tone light enough to keep him from prying too much or, heaven forbid, invite himself to their table.

"Always good to hear. Say, you know who you look like?" Mr. Crabbe asked as he turned to Fred. "That Weasley bloke that's in the mags these days. 'Cept for the beard you could'a been his twin. You two related by any chance?"

Hermione tried to laugh but it only came out in a titter. "Ha, no not at all. He's been getting that a lot lately but I'm afraid not. Besides, he's American so even if they were related it's so far removed they wouldn't have even heard about each other," she managed to stumble out. For once she hoped Fred would keep quiet and not draw the attention back towards him.

"Hmm, if you say so miss," Mr. Crabbe said with one final suspicious glance. "Anything you can recommend?"

The question brought a smile on Fred's face and Hermione could only close her eyes for the coming storm. "The eggs benny is like a buzzkill grindage, but the waffles are hella slammin, bro," Fred answered with an American accent. "And the bean's dope enough to jack."

Hermione stared at Fred, her polite smile frozen on her lips. She had absolutely no idea what he'd said and one glance at Mr. Crabbe let her know she wasn't the only one.

"Er, yeah. Thanks. Okay then," Mr. Crabbe finally mumbled. "I'll be seein' you around then, Bella."

Hermione waited until he was out of hearing before leaning over the table. "We have to go, now," she hissed, still smiling like a mad woman.

"Chill out, chica. Them old school pimp's ain't got nothin' on this playa," Fred said, tipping his chair back far enough she could topple him with one well-placed kick. Not that she was considering it.

"Fred, despite the obvious fact that you've just suffered from a massive stroke, quit talking until we leave or you'll regret it. Those two work for the Sun and they've been outside the flat waiting for you since last week," she told him as she shrugged on her jacket.

Fred let his chair land back on the ground with a loud thump and Hermione headed towards the door. She waved as she passed the two reporters and prayed that Fred realized she wasn't having him on.

As she passed, Mr. Goyle leaned over and handed her a nondescript business card with nothing but a number on it. "If you need anything at all, even if it's just deporting someone back across the pond," he said ominously with a hard look in Fred's direction, "just give us a ring. No charge."

Hermione's eyes widened and her smile felt as if it were about to dig into her face. Despite a sinking suspicion for years now that the pair had a second, far shadier job than just taking pictures, she'd never expected an offer like that. She took the card by the corner and thanked them, all but running out the door.

"Snaps, daddio-s. I'm out!" Fred said as he walked past them and Hermione cringed.

As soon as the door closed behind him Hermione rounded on him. "Are you absolutely mental? Those two are some of the most tenacious photographers The Sun's ever had. And what on earth was that rubbish you were spouting just now?"

Fred shrugged. "I have absolutely no idea. Mum's cousins from California came over last year and they all spoke like that." When it was apparent that Hermione was still upset over what had happened Fred took her arm and began to guide her towards the Tube station. "Relax, love. If anything else they'll only remember that I was absolutely barmy. They may question your sanity and taste in men, yes, but I doubt they'll think anything else of it. Now come on, Angelina found out that I'm seeing you today and she's been after me to bring you round. And I think she's making those ginger cookies you love so much."

"Fred." Hermione stopped and let her arm fall out of Fred's. He turned to face her and when she made no move to follow his face fell. "Are we okay then?"

"Were we not okay?" he asked.

"Just, I feel like I've been an absolute cow, thinking you'd go off and do something like that. I figured you'd be angry or annoyed or, or something," she said as she began to pick at the fingers of her glove. "I know you're not Viktor, or even Theo, but I still –"

Fred tipped her chin up so she had to look at him. He gave her a soft smile, one that she knew far more intimately than the stiff smile from earlier. "It's fine Hermione. I promise. We've all had bad experiences with exes and if I'd gone through what you'd have I probably wouldn't even be talking to myself right now. I once had a bird punch me for saying her pasta was overcooked. And don't even get me started on Linda the Waitress," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"What about Linda the Waitress?" Hermione asked. She narrowed her eyes at him, concerned as to why he'd be so reluctant to talk about her.

"She was so boring," Fred whined. "I don't remember anything about her except that she always wore a vest and could burp the alphabet." Hermione frowned, waiting for the rest of the story. Knowing she was still waiting, Fred gave her a cheeky smile. "I told you not to get me started on her. It's a very boring story that doesn't go anywhere."

Hermione snorted and leaned into Fred. "You're absolutely ridiculous you know that?"

"Part of the Weasley charm love," he told her. She wrapped her arms around him and smiled when he returned the gesture. "Besides, I can't possibly let you go now."

Hermione leaned back far enough look up at him and rested her chin on his chest. "And why is that?"

"Can't go stag to my own brother's wedding now can I? Wouldn't do for the best man to be crying in all the wedding pictures, his heart shattered to a million pieces on the dance floor."

"Not to mention what that would do to Angelina's dress," she said with a laugh.

"You've seen it then?" Hermione mimed closing her mouth with a zipper. "George will be jealous. And I don't think he'd ever forgive me either if you finally got smart and ran off. According to him I've been absolutely useless this past week, moping about and stinking of desperation."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. She hadn't realized Fred would take it that badly. "Remind me to use George as a guinea pig when I try out Mum's currant pie for the station's bake sale.

Fred winced. "Don't know that he'd ever forgive us for that."

Hermione smiled and enjoyed the embrace. She really had missed this ridiculous man. "Do you think we'll be alright?"

Fred shrugged. "Can't really say. But I hope so. Not like it's a big deal in the grand scheme of things. You couldn't get a hold of me, I couldn't ring you, media got involved. It could happen to anyone really. Besides if I let you go over something that silly I can't even imagine what Mum would do to me, she kept asking after you the whole time you were there."

"Did she? And what did you tell her?"

Fred grinned and the mischievous light was back in his eyes. "That you were off fighting crime in the big scary city, complete with a cape and goggles."

"You weren't too far off then. Though in my case I think I'd do better with a wand and a broomstick," she added. "No, wait. Scratch the broomstick. I've always been deathly afraid of heights and I'd probably fall off of it the first chance I got."

Fred chuckled at that image. "I would hope not, then what would I do without you? And Gin would be even more lost. Apparently she loved the edits and suggestions you sent over about that article. She's declared you to be the smartest woman around. And Dad still hasn't figured out of you managed to fix that leak in the roof."

Hermione snorted. "Duct tape is a wonderful thing. Dad likes you, you know. Apparently anyone who can eat pickled herring like you can is good in his book. Mum always made him eat it far away from the house because it smelled so bad."

Fred laughed and turned them so that they were walking again. "The trick of it is to not breathe too deeply. And to have singed most of your taste buds off from trying to eat a kilo of cinnamon on a dare when you're eight."

Hermione stopped and looked at him. "Is that why you never say anything when I burn the toast."

Fred only winked at her. "Perfect culinary pair, eh?"

xxxxx

Tenth chapter and over one hundred followers! Thanks to all of you, I had absolutely no idea that this many people would enjoy this strange AU so much. Just a heads up, after this chapter updates will likely be coming less frequently, in large part because I received some not so good news and I'm having to change a lot of things around to accommodate it.

Also a reminder to back up back up back up anything you're writing; lost a draft and had to start from scratch. Then when I'd finally found that draft I lost part of the second (and far better) draft, but I am much happier with this than with either of the other two which were far more dramatic and dark.

And as always, if I've left anything out from previous chapters please feel free to remind me, always happy to make corrections.

Thanks again for reading and I hope you have a great weekend.


	11. Cakes

27 April

A buzzing sound cut through the darkness and Hermione awoke blinking. She turned to look at the clock, 6:15, and yawned. Fred shifted beside her and reached over her when she didn't move to shut the alarm off. Instead of rolling back over to sleep like he usually did when the alarm went off so early, he pulled Hermione closer to him and hid his face in her hair.

"Fred, I've got to get up or I'll be late," Hermione told him through another yawn when he didn't move.

"Call in and say you're having eye trouble and just can't see coming in today," he mumbled from her neck as he shifted to pull her closer.

Hermione laughed softly. "As tempting as that sounds, it won't work. Harry tried to use that excuse last week and Kingsley gave him the graveyard shift for it. Besides, not all of us have the luxury of working from home whenever we want."

Fred sighed and rolled away from her. "Then come work for me and I won't have to wake up at such a god-forsaken hour."

"Oh? And what exactly is it I would do? Pick up after you and nag you to file your papers on time for once?" Hermione teased as she stood up and turned on the bedside light.

"And refill my coffee and pick up my mail," he added as he threw his arm over his eyes. "Weekends off, two weeks vacation, that sort of thing. No dental though, unfortunately."

"I think I might know a man for that," Hermione said dryly as she picked up her overnight bag and slipped a pair of sleeping trousers on.

"There is room for negotiations over uniform, but I warn you now that anything longer than a mini-skirt is off the table," Fred told her with a serious look.

"Oh? There's a uniform now?"

"Of course. All good secretaries have one. For you I'm thinking the librarian look, hair up in a bun, glasses, button down shirt. You always did look lovely in hose," he said with a wink.

"And what would George think of that?" she asked primly and placed her hands on her hips.

Fred grinned at her and sat up. "Probably be mad I was able to convince you before Angelina."

"And here I was thinking you weren't into that type of girl."

Fred gave her a wolfish grin. "What can I say? You've opened my eyes to new possibilities."

"You're absolutely mad, did you know that?" Hermione said with a laugh. She went to his side of the bed and kissed him.

"Mad for you," Fred said through a yawn. "But not insane enough to not go back to bed at this hour."

"What would your mother think, not offering a girl breakfast after she'd stayed the night?" Hermione asked as she paused at the door.

"Probably asked me why I hadn't brought her round for dinner lately. Speaking of, Mum wants to know if you're coming to her birthday party next weekend."

"Oh? I hadn't realized it was her birthday. I'd love to go if she'll have me."

Fred nodded and lay back down. "Brilliant. She'll be happy to see you again," he mumbled and Hermione was sure he was back asleep before she'd closed the door behind her.

xxxx

1 May

Hermione sighed and flipped through yet another fabric sample book. Three hours and four glasses of champagne into this planning party and the fabrics were quickly blurring together. She glanced over to where Angelina and Alicia sat with a similar book and frowned when she realized they hadn't gotten much farther than she had. If this kept up they'd be here all night unless Angelina could finally settle on one that gained Katie's seal of approval.

While she was pleasantly surprised when Angelina invited her to help picking out fabrics and desserts for the wedding today, Hermione sometimes felt like a third wheel around the women. She'd gone out with them quite a few times since the beginning of the year but she still found herself lost for words on occasion. And the twenty minute train ride debate over the Magpies and the Harpies hadn't helped either. Hermione had been lost within minutes as Katie had fiercely defended her team, claiming that the Magpies would still be able to sweep the finals despite the star forward's recent injuries. As a current member of the team Katie had insisted that Eunice was making a spectacular recovery and would be able to play next week's game despite all evidence to the contrary. Angelina and Alicia weren't so convinced, however, and both had money riding on the Harpies to sweep the cup this year. When asked to comment all Hermione could manage was that she now wished she'd paid more attention when Harry had tried to explain football to her all those times.

Ever since they'd left the station, Hermione had found her normally opinionated and out-spoken personality dampened by being so far out of her element in the bridal store. Katie had a brilliant eye for fabrics and colors while Alicia had set about taking notes and making sure they stayed within budget. But so far Hermione's only contribution was to make snide comments under her breath that made the other women snicker.

When Hermione had mentioned to Fred that she'd been invited today, his theory was that Angelina was in all likelihood trying to get on Hermione's good side. That way Angelina would have an easier time in getting Hermione to agree to keep Molly out of the way during the run-up to the wedding, especially since everyone had seen how involved she'd been during Bill's wedding. Hermione scoffed at his theory and told him that next time she'd suggest a nice cup of tea and Mr. Cuthburt Binn's latest volume on the Cromwell Rebellion as that would do just as nicely and go further than a shopping trip ever would.

"Hermione, what do you think about these?" Katie asked as she took the seat next to her.

As she tried to focus on the handle of sample squares thrust in her face Hermione leaned back to keep her eyes from crossing. "They're quite lovely, but their all beginning to look the same I'm afraid," she said as she pointed to the fabric samples on the table.

"Now you've gone and done it," Alicia said in a sing-song voice. Angelina covered her face with the fabric book to hide her laughter and Hermione glanced at Katie cautiously.

"These aren't the same, not at all," Katie chastised. "This one has a turquoise sheen, largely due to the satin and silk blend, while this one has a darker base and is far more likely to bleed if it's in contact with liquids for a long period of time. So unless Ang is going for a quickie Vegas elopement that will have to be something we consider. I don't know about Alicia but I sweat enough for all four of us over six hours. Besides, don't you think this one flatters my skin better?" Katie asked as she held up the last swatch to her face.

Hermione glanced between the sample and Katie, unsure of how to answer. It did look lovely on Katie, but then again so did all the others.

"Katie, we all know it's the same fabric as the others, give the poor girl a break," Alicia said with a laugh. She leaned over and took the fabric away from Katie and placed it on top of the others. "The poor thing's been so nervous ever since we walked it, you teasing her to death doesn't help."

"She knows I was teasing, don't you Hermione?" Katie said with a pout as she leaned against the back of the wicker chair. "Besides, it's not as if we get free champagne just for coming into a shop. I was just trying to make it last."

"I'm really not nervous," Hermione said quickly.

Alicia gave her a kind smile and patted her knee. "It's fine Hermione, really. We are a bit much at times. Did Angelina ever tell you about the time we got kicked out of Harrods's? We managed to change all of the mannequins in the lingerie department to look like old Bond girls before we were thrown out."

"Not that story again, you tell it every time you get any alcohol in you," Katie said as she snatched the fabric back from Alicia and handed it to Angelina.

"We weren't kicked out, we were just strongly encouraged to leave and not come back as a group," Angelina corrected. "Though I don't think I've ever seen Bulstrode look that irritated before. So we've made a decision then?" she asked as she held up the fabric.

Katie nodded and stood up. "I'll go find the clerk. Twenty yards for the tables, yeah?"

Alicia checked her notebook. "Twenty-two yards, but that's only if they'll drop to eight pound a yard. If not, then fourteen yards at the marked price and it'll be an accent piece rather than the whole tablecloth."

"How long ago did you decide on the cloth?" Hermione asked as she glanced between the women. Apparently there was some signal between them that she'd failed to catch.

"About thirty minutes ago. But they've kept the champagne coming, the company's excellent, and we still have loads of gossip to get through," Alicia said with a wave of her hand. "Speaking of, how has it been going with our dear Freddie lately? Ang said you've been around the flat much more than normal since he came back from France."

Hermione's cheeks heated up and she turned back towards the fabric book and hid behind her hair. "Yes, well, George hasn't been around much either, has he? Maybe we should ask Angelina about his whereabouts to make sure he's not getting into trouble without her."

Alicia laughed and turned to Angelina. "Fiery lass isn't she? Think we can toss the twins and adopt this one instead?"

Angelina snorted and began to gather up her wedding notes. "Doubtful. Those two are like a bad rash and I'd feel guilty if I pushed them on someone else. Besides, Daddy will kill me if he found out I'd put the wedding off. Hamswell is apparently non-refundable no matter what."

"The wedding is off?" Katie asked as she returned with a receipt in hand. "Did you finally come to your sense and decide to run off with me?"

"Only if you want to run away to Bath with me in June. Hamswell is refusing to refund or reschedule the venue even if the whole place goes up in flames. So I'll be there no matter what, even if George manages to finally blow himself up with that new engine of his. Where did we come down on fabric?"

"Twenty-four at six pounds a yard," Katie said proudly. She grabbed her jacket and followed the group out of the shop. "Apparently the manager is a huge Montrose fan and recognized me. I managed to talk her down to eight, but when she found out Gwen's daughter is having her baptism next month she offered six so long as I sent her round when she began to look for decorations.

"Bloody brilliant is what you are. Though it does leave me asking why you weren't able to get such good prices for me," Alicia said with a pout.

"Probably because I hadn't worked my way up to the Magpies yet since someone decided to drop out and have a baby," Katie teased.

As the women bantered back and forth, Angelina slowed down and looped her arm through Hermione's free one. "Those two are a handful, but they mean well," she said with a sigh. "And thanks for coming Hermione, I really do appreciate it."

"Thanks for inviting me," Hermione said with a smile. "Though I never know what to say around them when they get like this. They can be a bit," she paused as she tried to find a polite word of intimidating.

"Too much to take?" Angelina offered, and Hermione nodded as the description fit quite well. "They can be, but they're both absolutely brilliant in their own ways and I wouldn't trade them for the world. Katie lived next door to me growing up and we picked up Alicia in year three when she tried to bully Katie into giving up her Jaffa cakes. We've been inseparable ever since."

"I didn't realize you three were that close."

Angelina gave a small hum and smiled. "We are. A bit like you, Harry, and Neville, just with more arguments over football and fewer dead rose bushes," she teased.

Hermione laughed as she recalled the first time Angelina and George had met Harry and Neville. They'd gone round to drop off a rose bush that Fred had purchased for Neville to try and replace the one he'd destroyed last year. Within ten minutes of meeting each other Harry and Angelina had gotten into a heated debate about whether Blatter had bribed his way into the FIFA presidency. The argument would likely have continued through dinner if Hermione hadn't tripped over Crookshanks while getting her coat and pushed Fred into the new rose bush. As the count stood now, it was Fred – 0, rose bush – 2 and counting.

"I promise there was much less football and far fewer dead rose bushes before Fred came along. But today has been fun despite staring at fabric samples until my eyes crossed," Hermione assured her.

"I'm glad. We all like having you along. Now, tell me again how you managed that French twist last week. As much as I've tried I still haven't been able to keep it from falling after an hour at work."

Hermione smiled at how easy Angelina made things flow between them. "The trick is to use just enough hair spray to keep the hair tie from falling out. The rest of it is bobby pins. Mum could always get away with just bobby pins, but your hair is more like mine so it might be the brand of hair spray your using," she told her as they walked to the bakery.

It wasn't long before the two women became absorbed in their conversation and moved onto new topics about fashion, hair, and the weird spray tan David Beckham had been sporting lately. They soon arrived at the bakery that Alicia had been raving about lately, one that had "cake that would make you give up men and sex in a heartbeat." (Katie had snorted and said that she'd done the first without the cake, but that cake would be a welcome substitution for the second lately.) As they approached Hermione recognized the familiar red-head leaning against the brick wall while she wrote furiously in a black journal.

"Ginny, you did make it," Angelina called out, slipping her arm from Hermione's to wrap her soon-to-be sister-in-law in a tight hug. "I was beginning to think you were mad at me for keeping you out of all the wedding planning."

The red-head grinned and returned the hug. "I could never be mad at you Angie. You'll soon be my comrade in arms during the holidays, though hopefully you won't be the last," she said with a puzzling wink at Hermione. "Besides, how could I ever be mad at you for bringing my favorite mid-fielder and forward along with you?"

"Red rooster, I've missed you!" Katie squealed as she picked Ginny up and spun her around. "It's been absolute ages, I've gone into withdrawals. Why did you leave me and the rest of the girls alone with an empty nest and no calling card?"

"Only so you'd know how much you missed me," Ginny said as soon as Katie set her back down.

"Hello dovie, how's life been for you?" Alicia asked as she kissed Ginny on the cheek. "Hear you have another best-seller coming out soon?"

"With any luck," Ginny said as she held the door open for the group. "The publisher wants another fantasy romance novel with vampires and werewolves, but I'm pushing for something different. What do you think about an orphaned hero who doesn't find out he's saved the world until he's eleven?"

"Trite and done a million times," Katie said with a roll of her eyes. "I'd rather see a story about a woman fighting against a corrupt government, a televised revolution as it were."

Ginny stuck her tongue out at Katie and slipped into the booth. "It's too bad I'm most of the way through my manuscript then, isn't it?" Hermione slipped into the booth next to her and Katie, Alicia, and Angelina took the seats across from them. "Hello Hermione, it's good to see you're still hanging out with this crowd today. I'd have run screaming into the night well before night," she teased.

"Oh, don't go putting that idea into her head, it took us almost an hour to start taking the fabrics seriously enough to put down the work she'd brought with her," Katie said with a frown.

"It wasn't my fault that you couldn't decide between the crepe-back satin and the crepe charmeuse when we first got there," Hermione said as the waiter came by with water and the menus.

"She can be taught," Katie crowed, almost knocking down the glass of water in front of her. "I knew you'd be a quick study. Did you happen to pick up anything about sheer fabrics?"

"Wait, didn't you already pick out the fabric weeks ago?" Ginny asked before Katie could pick up steam. "Or did George manage to change your mind again about the colors for the reception. You do know he's only joking about it needing to match his eyes."

Angelina shook her head and picked up the menu. "Of course he didn't. Katie just wanted another go at negotiating the price down at that boutique before we went back to the first one. You know how she gets when she can argue about something."

"I don't argue that much," Katie said with feigned offense. "Besides, I managed to get the price down didn't I? Oh, fine, so maybe I do like to get my way every now and then."

"And I'm sure the three bottles of free champagne didn't keep us there any longer than we needed to be," Hermione said airily.

"Champagne? Are you holding out on me again Bell?" Ginny said with a mock glare.

Katie gave her a wink and set her menu down. "From you my pet? Never. Now, what do you say we start with the chocolate and one of the ganache filled ones."

Ginny squinted at the menu as she read through the descriptions. "Aren't they the same though?" she asked after a minute's scrutiny.

"Now you've done it," Hermione muttered. Ginny and Angelina snickered as Katie began to go into a reprise of her earlier lecture, only this time focusing on the difference between the two in terms of ingredients, flavor, textures, and look, along with a load of other terms that Hermione wasn't sure if they were baking or engineering terms.

"Someone's been binging on the food segments again," Angelina teased after she'd placed an order with the waiter.

Katie gave an indignant sniff and took a sip of her water. "Some of us care about what we put into our bodies, thank you. And unlike Alicia, I don't have a child I can use as an excuse to eat whatever I like."

"Speaking of, how is the sprog doing lately? Still running you ragged?" Ginny asked.

Alicia sighed and set her head on her hand. "You have no idea. Your Mum warned me a three-year old is a handful but I didn't think it would be this bad. I've barely had a wink of sleep lately and we've had to paint the walls twice this month ever since Nickie found out how much fun making crayon murals are. Poor Cedric nearly had a heart attack the first time when he came home from work and found that almost all the people Nickie drew were nearly headless. He blames the Teletubbies for that artistic touch."

"That doesn't surprise me," Angelina said with a shrug. "He's blamed the Teletubbies for Labour winning last year."

"And for Canada winning more medals than Britain in swimming and the new album by Oasis," Katie added as the waiter brought out a tray of samples.

The table listened politely as the waiter began to explain what each cake was, how it was made, and sizes and prices for each. Angelina and Katie were both quick to ask their own questions and Hermione sat back to listen to the back and forth.

"I take it you've never done this before," Ginny asked Hermione once Angelina's curiosity was satisfied and the waiter had walked off.

Hermione shook her head and picked up her fork. "No, never. You?"

Ginny collapsed against the back of the booth and sighed dramatically. "Only with two of the most fashion obsessed women in the world and their mother."

"Now you've done it," Katie teased. "She won't be done for at least another hour."

Ginny groaned and sat back up. "But Katie, you don't understand how awful Fleur was about shopping. She was absolutely mad, even Bill said so. Did you know we went to eight different bridal shops before she flipped her hair back and declared, 'Thez Engleesh fabriques are zo bland none of zhis zhall do! I cannot have a zhing zhat does not come from France if thees is what England haz to offer,'" Ginny said while she mimicked her sister-in-law to the giggles of the other women. Hermione bit her lip and tried not to laugh. After all, Fleur had sent her a lovely written apology along with a large basket of books (translated French works that Hermione none-the-less enjoyed) after she'd discovered the role she'd played in the whole tabloid fiasco.

"And when Mum put her foot down that the wedding was going to be at the house, Fleur got Bill to agree that everything needed to be shipped in from Nice. Table cloths, candles, flowers, even those little glass balls that you put in the bottom of vases. Mum just about had kittens, thought it was an insult against the family when they wanted to replace the furniture with French made things on the off chance some guest might go into the house."

Alicia nodded as she recalled the wedding preparations. "It was way over the top. I think that's the first time I've ever seen Molly get so angry before. We all thought she'd forbid Bill from marrying her after that."

"Mum wouldn't ever do that, but she'll make sure you know she's not happy," Ginny said with a wave of her hand. "Dad stayed out of the whole thing and was in his shed the entire month."

"That was the year we all got those spoon clocks from him, wasn't it?" Alicia added as she finished off her last bite of cake.

Ginny nodded. "Mum was livid when she found out he'd taken all her spoons, but Dad and Charlie nicked the fancy French ones that Fleur had brought over so we've had a mismatching set ever since. The only bright side about the whole thing was that her parents paid for the lot of it. And somehow Fred and George managed to slip in the bill for the Burrow's new roof and convinced them to buy a bridesmaid dress for Percy."

"Wasn't his color though, so I got it instead," Katie said through a mouthful of chocolate cake.

"And don't forget about the 'party favors' everyone got," Angelina said with a laugh.

"I almost forgot, that was the best part," Ginny said before finishing her bite of custard cream. "Right after Bill and Fleur walked out of the church to go to the reception, Father Boudreaux began reading off a slip of paper that one of Fleur's cousin's handed him. He read it out loud thinking it was a last minute change for the reception, his English isn't very good, and he tells everyone to check under their chairs, signed 'A Family Friend.' I go to look under my chair and I've got a firecracker taped to the bottom of it, and Percy's got a pair of giant pants that looked as if Aunt Muriel had worn them in the '30's.

"Your Mum got a coffee mug without a bottom," Katie said. "And I got magnets that have animal butts on them. The only things I've found that don't get taken from the locker room," she said with a smile.

"Dad got a whole army of pet rocks. I don't think I've ever seen him that happy to get a gag gift before," Ginny said.

"I still have my solar powered flashlight. Whenever George starts complaining about Ollivander's coming up with a better version of one of his ideas I just remind him that he came up with that one," Angelina said with a smile.

"And I got a bucket of powdered water," Alicia chimed in. "Ced got an emergency clown nose, though it's been rather helpful when we can't get Nickie to stop crying."

Ginny squinted and ticked off people on her fingers as she tried to remember other gifts. "And Charlie got canned dragon meat, I remember that. We all thought it was him behind the whole thing at first since he and Bill are thick as thieves, but once we found out Ron got a spider that jumps out of a can we knew it had to be the twins. That really was the only highlight of that wedding."

"And the cake, don't forget the cake," Katie said with a sigh. "I still dream about that cake. I'd have tried to marry it too if the priest hadn't disappeared after he found lady's lingerie under his seat."

"Did you all go then?" Hermione asked. She knew Angelina had always been close with the twins, but she still hadn't figured out where Katie and Alicia fit in the Weasley clan. Alicia had mentioned they'd all grown up together, but Hermione had yet to figure out whether they'd grown up together like she had with Michael Corner and Romilda Vane down the street or like she had with Harry and Neville.

"We did," Katie told her. "Molly even handwrote our invitations because she hadn't seen us since uni. Fred was so desperate to not be set up with a niece of one of Molly's knitting group that I took pity and went with him. Apparently if he'd shown up stag she'd sit him next to her, though I think it was more of an attempt to keep him from getting into trouble."

"That worked out badly enough," Alicia said with a snort. "You were the one who slipped the seating chart to the twins. For some reason Bill thought it was a good idea for them to be the ushers," she told Hermione.

"I did no such thing," Katie said with faux indignation. "Besides, I had to put Fred out of his misery somehow. Speaking of, Hermione are you bringing anyone to the wedding? I need a date since Peebles back out on me again and I'm sure Fred and Lee will spend more time setting some sort of prank up to be around much."

Before Hermione could answer, Ginny threw her arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Sorry Katie, but I've already claimed her as my plus one. Besides, she knows who the better choice is."

"Alicia?" Hermione said and Angelina agreed with a laugh.

Katie blew out her breath and leaned against the table feigning offense. "Break my heart why don't you?" she said with a pout. She straightened up and turned to Angelina before continuing. "You still haven't told me your honest opinion about the cakes yet Angie. If you're having trouble deciding you can always just get two, a plain one and a fancy one, or you could always just do an angel food cake and fondue fountains. But chose wisely, it will make a difference in whether the guests will riot or not."

"You'd be the only one rioting. My family will all be pissed before dinner's over and George's family will be trying to put out the fires he, Fred, and Lee leave behind them," Angelina said. "Besides, you're not the one who'll have to deal with George not having enough variety in his desserts. The last thing I want is to listen to him complain about having red velvet for the rest of my life."

"You could always just get both," Alicia said. "Both is good."

"You can't have both, Alicia, it's a wedding cake," Katie scoffed and Hermione turned back to finish her strawberry shortcake when she realized that Ginny kept glancing at it. "It's supposed to big and fabulous, something you can tell your grandkids about later. Besides, just because George is a twin doesn't mean they're both getting married. I doubt Fred's even popped the question yet."

Hermione breathed in quickly and immediately began coughing as a piece of strawberry lodged in her throat. Ginny began beating her on the back and Angelina shoved a glass of water towards her in a panic. Hermione's eyes began to tear from the pain in her throat and she watched Katie in a moment of panic. Surely he couldn't be planning that of all things; they'd only been dating seriously for five months. That was far too soon to be engaged let alone get a plant together.

While her body tried to dislodge the fruit from her throat her mind began reeling as Hermione began to realize the implications of Katie's comment. Though it wasn't a secret to anyone in England that Fred had purchased a ring while in France it had never occurred to Hermione that everyone would jump to the conclusion that it was for her. It was the most obvious conclusion, yes, but surely if that was his intention wouldn't he have at least mentioned it to her in passing? Neither of them liked surprises; rather, both were far more likely to discuss something of that magnitude.

Besides, she'd finally managed to needle and bribe George into showing it to her last week. They'd stowed it in the linen closet, the best place for hiding anything in the flat considering how much the two had crammed in there over the few years they had lived there, and it took the three of them half an hour to pull out enough to find the ring again. Even Hermione had to admit that it was one of the prettiest pieces of jewelry she'd ever seen, though not pretty enough to have to put everything back into the linen closet once more.

"No, I knew he'd bought a ring, it was all over the papers. But Fred didn't buy anything for me. The ring is for –" Hermione snapped her jaw together before she could finish her thought. George could never forgive her if she let it slip about the ring he'd had specially designed for Angelina, especially not this close to the wedding.

Angelina narrowed her eyes and stared at Hermione in suspicion. "For who?" Hermione swallowed hard and the movement caused her to begin to cough again. She continued coughing longer than she really needed to as she tried to come up with some plausible lie that would satisfy both Angelina and Ginny as they were the two most likely to push until they were satisfied that they'd been told the truth.

Hermione quickly began to run through the potential women that Fred would give a ring to. Ginny was quickly ruled out; while she was close to the twins it was highly unlikely she'd ever get jewelry from them. And Verity, their new PR hire, was out as well. She hadn't been working for them long enough to merit even a raise let alone such an expensive and customized ring. Alicia and Katie were ruled out just as quickly; this was not the sort of ring to give a married woman and Katie never wore jewelry to begin with. And Fleur, Penny, and Daphne were ruled out as well; Fred wasn't close to any of his sister-in-laws.

"Well?" Katie pressed as Hermione stopped coughing.

"It's for, well, it's supposed to be a surprise, and he didn't really want anyone to know," Hermione stuttered, still trying to find some recipient that made sense. If she'd have known lying was this important to adult life Hermione would have begun when she was eleven and couldn't bring herself to lie about why she and her friends were off school property.

Desperate to find some sort of inspiration, Hermione looked around the shop in the hopes that something would jump out at her. Even though it was a bank holiday, the bakery was rather empty. It wasn't until a mother and her son came through the door that Hermione was struck by an obvious solution.

"It's for your mother, he bought it for your mother. For her birthday this weekend," Hermione cried out, happy that she'd come up with something. Her eyes snapped back to look at Ginny and her joy was tempered when she saw Ginny's confused face.

"Mum? He's never bought Mum jewelry in his life," Ginny said shortly.

Hermione swallowed hard and tried not to blink too much. Harry had always said a liar blinked too much. Or was it too little? "Yes, but it's not every year she turns sixty is it?" Hermione replied with a tight smile.

"Yes, but why start now? Are you sure it's for Molly?" Angelina asked as she looked askance at Hermione.

"Maybe she mentioned wanting one last time he was there? Did we want to try the carrot cake or the peach schnapps? The waiter did say they were delicious," Hermione chirped as she picked the menu up again.

Ginny's frown deepened and she exchanged a glance with Angelina. "Mum always did like Granny Prewitt's rings," she said slowly.

"That must be it then. Oh, Alicia look, they have coconut almond cookies, don't you love coconut? I'm sure these will be lovely," Hermione said as she tried to steer the conversation back to the reason why they were in the shop in the first place.

"She did mention that it was a shame they were stolen a few years ago," Angelina said as the suspicion slowly fell from her face. Hermione bit back a cheer as Angelina picked up a menu and began to look through it again.

"Suppose that makes sense. But why now? Are you sure he said it was for Mum?" Ginny asked and Hermione began to nod furiously.

"Yes, apparently he's been meaning to do it for a while. Oh, what about the pumpkin frosting, don't you think that sounds lovely, Katie?"

"Oh, I didn't see that one. I think that would pair fabulously with the chai cake, don't you Angelina?" Katie asked.

Hermione sighed in relief as the conversation turned back towards wedding planning, though she noticed Ginny glancing at her every now and then. When the subject wasn't brought up again, Hermione put the conversation out of her mind and enjoyed the rest of the day's outing without giving it a further thought.

xxxx

Spoiler alert: No Fred's not proposing anytime soon, but it would certainly make sense if everyone else jumped to the same conclusion. Up next: A party, a ring, and an unexpected engagement.

Thanks again for everyone who's stuck with it this long and Happy Thanksgiving for those who celebrate it, and for those who don't, happy Thursday!


	12. Cover

8 May

Hermione set down her notes and sighed as she tried to rub the tension out of her shoulders. There was another hour before Penny and Percy were coming to pick her up and she'd barely made any progress this morning. She'd been pouring over the case ever since Kingsley had managed to catch her after lunch on Tuesday. Neither he nor Harry had been able to make much of any progress on it and Hermione was afraid that she wouldn't be much help on this one.

So far, the only facts known about the case were those that were found at the crime scene. The victim was an elderly woman who had been an internationally renowned scholar before turning to a life of recluse, now known only to her neighbors and niche academics. Her death had gone unnoticed for weeks until the mailman had called the police, suspicious that her normally pristine garden had grown over, who had only found a large and overfed boa constrictor in her sitting room. It wasn't until the snake had coughed up a boot that Harry and Dean realized that Ms. Bagshot had been eaten alive. It had been almost a week and yet she couldn't get the grisly case out of her head. There was something about it that Hermione felt she should be able to place, quite like a forgotten word on the tip of her tongue or a waking dream. Yet despite the feeling of such familiarity, Hermione was stumped on how such an act could occur.

A sharp, staccato knock at the front door drew Hermione's attention away from her musing and back into reality. A quick glance at the clock showed that it was 8:00 a.m. sharp, far too early for anyone to be calling for a social visit. Setting the case to the side, she stretched as she made her way to the front door only to find Percy standing stiffly on the front step, his hands clasped behind his back, rocking onto his heels.

"Hermione, good morning," he greeted as he gazed down his nose at her. "I do hope you're ready to go. I'd hate to be late." Percy paused a moment before giving a small chuckle at his own words.

"Sorry, it's just, you're a bit early is all," she said. "Penny said you'd be by at nine, and it's only just past eight." Hermione trailed off as his smile fell and was replaced by a stern look. His look reminded her of when she and Harry were scolded in second year for sneaking into the restricted area of the grounds despite the fact that she hadn't thought of that particular adventure for years. (And despite the fact that as it turned out the groundskeeper really did have a three-headed dog, even if it was a taxidermist's experiment gone wrong.) "Just, let me grab my things. I won't be a minute," she added after a moment before walking back into the house.

Not for the first time Hermione was grateful of her habit of packing the night before, even more so after George's warning to pack light after finding out she would be traveling with Penny and Percy. In reality, it made no difference to Hermione how she made it to Ottery St. Catchpole as long as she made it in time for the party tomorrow. Normally she'd be traveling along with Fred, George, or Angelina, but they'd all gone ahead earlier in the week, George and Angelina to finalize wedding plans with the local priest, Fred to finalize a business deal he'd picked up the last time he'd been home. This time, Hermione had decided that it would be better to catch a train out to Southhampton, then over to Ottery St. Catchpole. Fred, on the other hand, wasn't keen on the idea of her traveling alone cross-country and so had called in a favor from his other brother. One quick phone call from Penny had finalized their travel plans and now Hermione was set to ride along with Percy and Penny for the next six hours.

In less than five minutes, Hermione had managed to gather her bags, jot a quick note to Harry and Neville, and give Crookshanks a quick pat on the head. When she stepped onto the porch, Percy insisted on taking her bags to the car from her and she willingly handed the bags over as she tried her best to keep Crookshanks from running through the open door. It wasn't until she'd managed to lock the door behind her and walk towards the car that Hermione realized why Percy had been so helpful.

She watched mesmerized from the curb as Percy began to meticulously unpack the boot, pulling suitcase after suitcase out and stepping it gently on the pavement. When Fred told her that Percy's lifelong motto was "Be ready for any occasion; one never knows when you'll meet the Queen," Hermione had laughed it off as Fred's usual exaggeration. Even though she'd met Percy and Penny for dinner on a few occasion since she and Fred started dating, it wasn't until this moment that she realized neither Fred nor George had ever exaggerated when it came to their older brother.

"Percy, are you moving?" Hermione asked in wonder when he finished pulling everything from the boot. There had to be at least 16 pieces of luggage not including her two bags. She could only marvel at the planning that must have gone into packing so much into such a small space. And Harry thought she over packed.

At her question, Percy paused in rearranging the luggage on the curb and turned to her. "Not at all Hermione. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," she said with a quick smile. "I'll just go wait in the car with Penny." Percy nodded and began to meticulously lower one of the larger pieces of luggage into the boot.

"Afternoon Hermione," Penny said as Hermione opened the back seat door. "I hope you're not too put off by us being so early. Percy wasn't sure how much you would be bringing and he wanted a bit more time to rearrange everything," she said with an apologetic smile.

"Not at all, I was just doing some reading for work when Percy knocked," Hermione said as she closed the door behind her. "And thanks again for agreeing to take me with you. After hearing that the trains were backed up because of a situation on that new platform I was glad to have a ride."

"It's not a problem at all, we're happy to have you," Penny said as the car gave a sharp lurch. Hermione and Penny looked out the windows to find that Percy had removed all the luggage once more and had begun to repack the boot for a second time. "Sorry about that. He can be a bit particular sometimes about how things are packed. I've learned it's better to pack light," Penny said as she held up her own backpack.

"It's fine. Fred warned me Percy had a few quirks." In truth, Fred had warned her that Percy was a stick in the mud that did everything according to the rules, regardless of whether said rules made any sense. He's also warned her that they would probably leave London an hour later than planned as Percy refused to drive a car until he had checked the air and tread of the tires, the washer fluid, and the condition of every seat belt in the car, including those that weren't being used.

Penny laughed and shook her head. "I'm sure Fred said a lot more than that, but yes. Percy does have his own unique way of doing things. And don't tell him I told you this, but I'm very happy you agreed to come with us for my own selfish reason. On long car rides Percy insists on listening to the Goon Squad, that old radio comedy show?" Hermione nodded in recognition. Those had been her father's favorite tapes growing up.

"Well, the worst of it is that he's listened to them so many times both of us can recite them from memory. Lately he's taken to doing the actor's parts instead and I've indulged him the past few times. But with you along I doubt he'll even put them on. He's a bit embarrassed about that particular hobby. I think he thinks it will make him seem too childlike."

Hermione bit her lip as she tried not to laugh at the image of Percy making a joke about gorillas and cigarettes. It was an absolutely ridiculous image and George's stiff and formal impressions of his brother kept popping in to interrupt. "It's fine if he wants to listen to them, really. My father used to listen to them ages ago while he was working in the garage. I know there's a running joke about quitting gorillas, but I'm afraid I've forgotten most of it."

"Oh I remember that one all too well," Penny said with a good-natured roll of her eyes. The boot slammed shut and Percy began his rounds about the car. "It's one of his favorites and it doesn't help that his boss, Mr. Thicknesse, absolutely loves doing bits with him. I think it's only reinforced his love of it."

"I can imagine how that would encourage it," Hermione said as she watched Percy move to the other side of the car. "Harry did the same thing when he went to work with Remus and Kingsley. Once a month they go down to the pub for sports trivia nights and at first Harry didn't want to go. Now he's the one organizing the office team."

"Isn't it funny how that happens?" Penny asked with a smile as Percy opened the driver's side door.

"Right. I think that about does it," Percy said as he shut the door behind him.

As he began to reach for the unoccupied seat belts in the back seat, Penny laid her hand on his arm. "You already checked those before we left dear."

"Yes, you're quite right about that. Thank you," he said. He tugged on his seat belt and reached over to the glove compartment. After a minute, he turned back towards her and held up a well-used tape. "Now Hermione, have you ever heard of a comedy group called 'The Goon Show'?"

xxxxx

"Mother, I'm home and I've brought Penny and Hermione with me," Percy called out as he stepped through the front door of the Burrow, his first round of luggage in tow.

"I'm in the kitchen dear," Mrs. Weasley called back.

Percy nodded towards the kitchen. "You two go on ahead. I will unload the car," he told them before turning sharply towards the staircase.

Penny gave him a soft smile before heading towards the kitchen, Hermione following close behind. The closer they came to the kitchen, the stronger the sounds of cooking and the smell of a feast being prepared became. It wasn't until Hermione saw Mrs. Weasley standing at the bench in the kitchen kneading up dough for dinner that her heart gave a sharp pang. What she wouldn't give to see her mother baking away in the kitchen and to hear the sounds of the radio mixing with her laughter at another of her father's terrible jokes. It hadn't been more than five years and yet the pain of losing her was still strong enough to cause tears to spring to her eyes. Hermione quickly blinked away the tears and did her best to push the memory out of her head as Mrs. Weasley turned to greet them.

"Hello Molly. Another pie for Charlie?" Penny asked as she gave the older woman a hug.

"After what he brought round this time he won't be getting another pie for the rest of his life if I have anything to do with it," Mrs. Weasley said, her face growing red. "I swear, those boys will be the death of me yet. No, this one's for Ron, he's gotten another promotion again, second one this year," she said with a smile. "Hello there Hermione dear, how are you these days? Fred isn't giving you any trouble now is he?"

"I'm doing well, Mrs. Weasley, thanks. And Fred hasn't been much trouble lately, though I suspect he's got something planned for George and Angelina this weekend," Hermione said as she returned her hug.

Mrs. Weasley only sighed and rolled her eyes. "Those two. I don't understand why it's so impossible to have a family event that doesn't end in fireworks."

"But it wouldn't be near as fun without them," Penny said as she snuck a biscuit from the cooling rack. "Then it would be like visiting my family, sitting around the parlour and hoping someone says anything that's not about to start an argument about politics."

"Still, it would be nice to have a calm dinner for once, though with seven of them I haven't had a moment's rest since Bill was born. I wouldn't trade them for the world though," Mrs. Weasley said as she turned back to the bench and began to shape the dough into a ball. "Penny dear, would you mind washing those vegetables by the sink for me?"

"Not a problem Molly," Penny said as she began to eat another biscuit.

"Is there anything else you need help with?" Hermione asked as she set down her purse on the kitchen chair along with the bag of snap peas Neville had sent along with her.

"Not a thing. Though if you'd like, Ginny's out in the yard rounding up chickens and I'm sure she'd appreciate the help," Mrs. Weasley said with a glance out the kitchen window.

As Hermione made her way to the backyard, she heard Penny ask, "Why are your chickens out? I thought George and Bill fixed the coop last week?" before the door closed behind her. What greeted Hermione when she stepped off the porch could politely be described as a chaotic mess of white feathers and garden gnomes strewn across the back yard.

"Ginny, what on earth happened out here? It looks as if a tornado's come through," Hermione said as she walked over to where Ginny had a chicken cornered by the garden wall.

"Charlie brought round a tiger and it got into the chicken coop this morning," Ginny said with a grunt as she lunged at the chicken. The chicken was too quick, however, and flew straight at Hermione in its panicked state, leaving Ginny to dive face first to the ground. Once it was clear, Hermione held her hand out to help Ginny stand up.

"Thanks," Ginny said as she brushed off her pants. "The damned thing got into Mum's chicken coop after breakfast and tore it to shreds chasing them all. Charlie's named it Norbert of all things. Swing round that way, will you? I think we can guide that one into the shed," she said as she pointed at a brown rooster.

"Why did he bring a tiger here? I thought he worked in Romania?" Hermione asked as she began to help Ginny walk the chicken away from the house.

"He does," Ginny said as they came closer to the shed. "Apparently he and some friend of his are trying to get it out before the British Zoo can come and claim it. Something about them not having enough room for it to play and socialize. Mum had kittens when she found it in the den last night," she continued as she slowly opened the shed door. "Go to your left a little and I think we'll have it."

Hermione shifted her course, and watched as the chicken turned into the shed to escape her. Once it finally pecked its way into the shed Ginny closed the door behind it and set the latch. "Finally. That's the first one we've managed to corral in almost an hour. Of course, it doesn't help that the boys all went to town and that one doesn't want to do anything but throw Dad's gnomes around," she said with a jerk of her chin at the sullen five year old hiding behind the garden wall.

"No wonder your mom said you needed help out here," Hermione said as she pulled a feather from Ginny's hair. "I'm guessing that's Bill's oldest?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and started walking back towards the house. "Yes, Victorie, but don't bother with that one. Every inch of her is Fleur's child, French snobbery and all. The brat's refused to speak anything but French today, and the only ones who can understand it are up visiting Aunt Muriel today. Mum managed to get her talking in English again around lunch time, but then I told her Queen Rowena was English and not French she's gone back to French just to spite me. And just last week she was telling me, in English of all things, just what dollies she wanted for her birthday next month," Ginny said loudly as they approached where the girl was hiding.

"Surely she can't be that bad. Hello," Hermione said with a wave to the small child as they passed.

"You have no idea how bad she can be. Almost as bad as the twins when they were going through puberty," Ginny said with a snort. Victorie stood up just long enough to stick her tongue out at her aunt before crouching down to hide again.

"Bonjour, Victoire. Je m'appelle Hermione. Où est la poule?" Hermione called out in broken French.

"Oh sure, just encourage her," Ginny muttered.

"Tu parles français?" Victoire asked excitedly as she popped back up. Hermione nodded at her and the child scrambled over the wall and ran over to walk beside her.

"Now see what you've done?" Ginny said as Victorie began to speak quickly to Hermione who could only nod her head as she tried to follow along. When it appeared that Victoire was in no mood to stop talking, Ginny sighed and shook her head. "Sure, let's make French the dividing line in this family. First it's the English/French language divide, then it's inside jokes and the last piece of Penny's pumpkin pie, and next thing you know the Weasley's are going down in history as the ones to rekindle the Anglo-French War."

"We're starting back up with the French? Bout bloody time, I've been wanting to meet some French birds for a while," Charlie said as he rounded the corner of the house, PVC piping and chicken wire held under one arm. "They say they have the most beautiful ar-, why hello there Victorie, how are you?" he asked, catching himself when he saw the young girl walking along with Ginny and Hermione.

"Le tigre, oncle tigre," Victorie cried as she recognized her uncle.

Charlie laughed at the nickname and picked the girl up one-handed. "What do you say, Vickie? Invade France next week and find some more of that honey soap you like so much?"

"And here I was thinking we'd have to wait until at least Christmas to get around to the French," Ginny said dryly.

"But with that moved up, we'll be able to start the land war in China by July, and then onto the Russians after Halloween. With any luck we'll be able to track the reds back to Moscow by New Year's."

"That's a horrible idea Charlie, didn't you learn anything in history? One should never get involved in a land war against Asia. You remember how badly that went last time," Ginny teased.

" Le tigre, oncle Charlie, le tigre. Je veux voir le tigre," Victorie said as she tugged on his shirt.

"Sorry cub, no le tigre for you today. Your mum will have my head if I let you near Norbert again. And a hello to you Hermione. Love boy's out front helping Percy with his bags, but I'm sure he'll be round soon."

"Hello Charlie. I hear you brought along an unexpected guest this time," Hermione said with a smile.

"Too bad it wasn't a girl eh, then Mum wouldn't be as flustered" he said with a wink. "George, hurry up with those stakes will you or we'll be out here all night with the mosquitoes and gnats," Charlie called out over his shoulder.

"I'm coming Charlie. Not all of us were built like pack mules," George grumbled as he came around the corner carrying an armload of stakes and a second roll of chicken wire. "Hermione, there you are. How many times did you have to listen to 'Napoleon's Piano' on the way down? Percy's records eight, but that was only because Dad fell asleep on the way to London."

"Twice, but that's only because Penny and I staged a coup and threatened to play the Weird Sisters the rest of the way if he didn't change it," Hermione said with a laugh.

Charlie let out a low whistle and set Victoire down on the garden wall. "Two's enough with Percy acting it out. Good call on the Weird sisters though. He's had a strange fear of metal bands ever since he insisted on sneaking out with me and Bill to go see Kiss in 1984."

"Still hates heavy makeup and leather. Makes Halloween a lot of fun with him," George told her with a wink.

"sans l'oreille, sans l'oreille. Je veux voir le tigre, s'il vous plait," Victorie said when she managed to slide down the garden wall.

Though it took a moment to translate, Hermione's eyes flew open as she realized what the child was saying. She glanced at George and found that he hadn't caught onto what Victorie was calling him. Ever since he'd lost his ear in the accident, George had only spoken about the loss of his ear to Fred, and even then they were both tight-lipped about the whole incident. Hermione wasn't sure how he'd react to the child's nickname and could only hope that she wouldn't be asked to translate.

"English, Vickie love, English, or I'll never know if you want peas or a pony for your birthday," George teased. The five year old made a face at him and he laughed. "Besides, if you keep insisting on speaking French we'll never be able to get your dad back on the right side of the Channel."

"But, le tigre. Où est le tigre oncle sans l'oreille?" Victorie asked, still stuck on seeing the tiger cub.

"Really now Vickie. I must insist on English; the only words I know well enough in French I can't teach you until you're older. Besides, if you only speak French how will we be able to coordinate well enough to dye your mother's hair blue again?" George asked as he shifted the stakes to a more comfortable position. "You don't know what she's on about do you Hermione? She's been calling me that oriole name for a while and I haven't gotten a straight answer out of Bill or Fleur on that one."

Hermione dropped her eyes and began to fiddle with a garden gnome on the wall next to her. "Uncle without an ear, I think," she said quietly. There was a pause and both Hermione and Charlie looked at George, uncertain of what his reaction would be. George blinked and Hermione held her breath, hoping he wouldn't close himself off like he had after Fred had found out about the engagement.

"Ha! Brilliant one dovie, I think we'll be able to make something of you yet," George finally said with a laugh. "For that one I'll give you a lolly if you help us with the chicken coop. And if we're lucky we might be able to catch sight of good old Norbert again."

Charlie laughed and turned towards the old shed at the far end of the yard. "That one's all on you Georgie-boy. I doubt even Bill could save you from Fleur if she finds out about that one."

"Good thing we can keep a secret then, right Vickie girl?" Goerge said with a wink as he began to follow Charlie down the hill, Victorie following close behind. "Now, let's see if we can find that tiger before he gets hungry enough to eat a dragon."

"Your funeral," Ginny called out after them.

"Whose funeral? Are you knocking off my dear brothers again Ginny?" Fred asked as he came out the back door.

Ginny punched her brother on the arm and hugged him. "They're my brothers too, you barmy git. Glad to see you finally finished with Percy's bags. Your niece was about to drive me mad while this one decided to align with the Francs instead of her own kind," she said with a nod to Hermione.

"Ah yes, how well I know that one. You should have seen her when we played Risk, took out my whole army in one turn and left me only with the Congo," Fred said as he stepped towards Hermione.

"You also had Madagascar if I recall correctly. Besides, it's not my fault you have no defensive strategy," Hermione said with a sniff.

"Or you just steal all the luck in the room. Make it up alright with Percy?" Fred asked as he pulled Hermione into a kiss.

"Yes, except for the hour long stop at the Dorchester Railway Museum. Did you know they're the only train station to use a quarter-numbering system? Penny and I thought we'd never be able to pull Percy away from the 9 and ¾ platform," Hermione said.

Fred raised an eyebrow. "Fascinating. And how exactly did Percy manage to drag you along to that dusty place? I know it wasn't his good looks and scintillating conversation."

"He claimed they had the best sandwiches in all of Dorset, if you can believe that," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"Ah, yes, the old sandwich trick we all learned from Uncle Gideon. If I'd have known that worked on you I'd have tried it last week when we went up to Stratford."

"Pity you were outsmarted by your brother then," she said dryly.

"I wouldn't say it was a pity. You went home with me didn't you?" Fred said with a smirk as he leaned towards Hermione.

"Still here," Ginny said as she mimed gagging. "Still not wanting to see this."

"Oh please. Like we all didn't have to watch you snogging with that McCormick kid last Christmas," Fred shot back as he stepped towards the garden wall, only to stub his toe on one of the many gnomes littering the yard. "Son of a -, why are Dad's gnomes scattered all about?" he grumbled as he sat on the crumbling wall to rub at his foot.

"Your dear niece is taking after you and George in chaos. She's been throwing them all about the yard instead of helping me round up the chickens. Just throw them over the wall, I'm sure Dad won't mind since Mum threw them out here ages ago," Ginny said as she picked up a bucket and began to slowly step towards a chicken near the house.

"She's managed quite a few over the wall since we got here," Hermione added as she picked up a larger one with a yellow hat and a smiling flower.

Fred leaned over the wall and gave a low whistle. "No kidding. If she keeps that one up she'll pass Ron up at the pitch in July."

"What's happening in July?" Hermione asked as she went to stand beside him.

"Didn't I tell you?" Fred asked with a large grin. "It's the annual Weasley family Olympics, complete with banners and torches and medals. Usually we hold it in June, but with George getting married it got pushed to July."

"Oh? And what sort of games do you lot play? I can't imagine it would be anything short of mischief," she said as she took a seat next to him.

"The usual, cricket, rugby, Quidditch."

"Quidditch? I don't think I've heard of that one."

"Something Gin made up one year when we wouldn't let her play rugby with us. It's more or less football, but you have to hold onto a broom and use it to move the ball about," Fred told her as he mimed sweeping a ball. "Drives Mum mad since most times we destroy her good brooms."

Hermione made a small noise and shook her head. "I'm afraid I won't be any help then. I never was any good at cricket even when Neville tried to teach me."

Fred winked and leaned towards her. "We could always do with a new referee. The old one's been married to the Maroon Team Captain for years now and she's a bit biased. You'd just even things out for the old Gold Team."

"And what reason would I have to even things out? Perhaps I find I like the Maroon team better," Hermione teased as she leaned away from him.

"Blasphemy. The Maroon Team doesn't have the man of your dreams playing defensive forward. And shirtless, I may add."

Hermione raised her eyebrow and glanced back towards the paddock where Charlie and George were beginning to unroll the chicken wire. "Charlie's on the Gold Team then? Well I certainly will have to be biased then won't I?"

"Cheeky." Fred laughed and reached towards Hermione who jumped away from him. "Just for that we'll have to put you on Percy's team," he said as he began to chase after her.

"Oi! Fred stop flirting and get down here or I'll tell her about the time you got your head stuck in a trashcan," Charlie called out from behind them.

Fred sighed dramatically and dropped his hand from Hermione's waist. "Duty calls, my dear. I'm afraid we'll have to resolve this later when my reputation isn't at stake."

"I doubt it will besmirch your good name," she told him as she caught her breath.

He gave her a smirk and pecked her on the cheek. "Who said anything about my good name? It's my bad name I'm worried about," he said before he began to job down the hill. "Hold your knickers together Charlie, I'm coming."

"At least one of us is," Charlie called back with a grin.

Ginny groaned and rolled her eyes. "I really don't know why you choose to hang out with them, Hermione. At least you have a choice in the matter."

Hermione laughed and began to follow Ginny towards the mulberry bushes. "They're really not that bad. At least they didn't make me watch Fever Pitch three times in a row."

"Only because you slept through the first two times. Now come on, I think there's another two in the bushes over there that we can flush out before the boys get done with the frame."

xxxx

Two hours and twelve chickens later, the tired and dusty pair finally made their way back into the house and collapsed in the den. Ginny took no time in sprawling out on the couch, burying her face in an old pillow and sighing heavily in relief. Hermione made her way to the loveseat and gingerly lifted her sore onto the ottoman.

"Ah, there you are love. I was afraid the chickens chased you off," Fred said as he walked towards the dining room with a stack of plates.

"Oh please don't say that word again. I don't think I can stand to hear it after this afternoon," Hermione groaned as she slipped off her shoes.

"Suppose I shouldn't mention Mum's made a chicken casserole for tonight then," he said with a smirk. He laughed as two pillows were thrown after him as he walked into the dining room.

"Smart ass," Ginny muttered. "I really don't know what you see in him."

Hermione shrugged as she sat back against the uncomfortable chair, trying to find a comfortable spot. "My cat likes him. What more could a girl ask for?"

Penny laughed as she followed after Fred with the silverware. "Don't let Bill hear you say that or you'll be hearing dirty innuendos all night."

"Still better than hearing about Percy's boat in a bottle hobby," Ginny muttered. "Don't think I'll ever get that three hours of my life back."

"I'd rather hear both of those than repeat this afternoon. The next time I offer to help your mother remind me to avoid going outside," Hermione said. She let out a sharp hiss as she shifted towards the arm of the loveseat to avoid a large button in the cushion. "I don't think I've run around this much since Harry and I were chased out of a bank vault by an alligator last month."

Ginny turned her head towards Hermione and raised an eyebrow at her. "One of these days I'm really going to have to meet your friends. They sound far more exciting than the people I hang out with. My friends are just going out and getting married or having kids."

"Don't say that too loud or Mum will get ideas," Fred called out from the dining room.

"Say it all you want around Percy then, maybe he'll finally get around to asking," Penny added.

"I could scream it around Percy and I doubt he'd get the hint," Ginny called back. "At this rate you'll have to be the one to propose."

"I'm afraid you may be right. We'll both be retired if I wait for him to ask," Penny said with a sigh as she went back into the kitchen with Fred following behind her.

"Speaking of asking, is there an update?" Ginny asked softly.

"An update on what?" Hermione asked as she finally found a comfortable spot and began to drift off.

Ginny snorted and rolled over onto her back. "You know exactly on what. Or have you forgotten about our conversation on Monday? About une petite bague, perhaps?" she said with a smirk. Hermione's eyes flew open and she stared at Ginny openmouthed as she tried to find her words.

"Love, Mum wants to know if those peas are for the stew tomorrow or if you wanted her to make them tonight," Fred asked as he walked back into the room.

"Whenever," Hermione said, glad to have a moment to try to come up with an answer. Ginny's smirk only widened and Hermione realized she hadn't gotten around to telling Fred of the conversation they'd had on Monday. "Fred, would you mind going upstairs with me? I think I left something in your room," she said with a tight smile.

"My room? What are you on about, you're bunking with Gin," Fred told her as he came to stand by her chair.

"I know, but don't you remember I left that thing in your room," she told him with a pointed look, hoping he'd get the hint.

Fred peered at her quizzically before raising his hand to her forehead. "Hermione, are you feeling alright? You haven't been up to my room."

Hermione's smile widen as Ginny sat up and began to look between the two of them. "Yeah Hermione. You were with me ever since you got here. What one earth would you need to go up there for? Unless it was for un anillo por tus dedos?" Ginny said with a Cheshire grin.

"Nothing of the sort, Ginny," Hermione said as she stood up and tugged Fred towards the stairs with Ginny following closely behind them. "Just a book I'd asked him to bring with him is all."

"Really? What sort of book," Ginny asked, stopping at the stairwell and watching them climb up the stairs.

"A boring one," Hermione snapped as she continued to the second floor landing. She leaned over the bannister and waited until Ginny had wandered back towards the couch before turning to Fred. "You have to buy your mother a ring," she hissed.

Fred blinked and stared at her as if she'd grown cat whiskers. "Pardon?"

"A ring," she repeated, glancing once more down the stairwell. "You have to go out and buy your mother a ring first thing in the morning."

"A ring? Have you gone mad? I've never bought jewelry in my life," Fred told her as he leaned on the bannister next to her.

Hermione grabbed his arm as Fleur's voice carried up to the second floor. "Quickly," she whispered as she shoved him into the linen closet and pulled the door shut behind her. Even though the closet was dark, Hermione knew with an uncanny certainty that Fred was smirking at her actions.

"Love, if you wanted a quick shag you should have said so earlier. The shed's got loads more room and you could have gotten out of chasing Mum's birds around the yard."

Hermione rolled her eyes and put her ear to the door to listen as Fleur passed the closet and began to climb the stairs. "Honestly Fred, this is no time for your crassness," she whispered. When she was certain Fleur had passed to the third floor Hermione turned to find Fred leaning on the door next to her.

"Want to tell me why we're hiding out in my parent's linen closet?" he asked with a lazy grin.

"Because you've got to go buy your mother a ring tomorrow so that you can give it to her at her birthday dinner."

"So you've said," he said dryly. "Still need to know why I'm giving my mother a ring though. I've got her a lovely Burberry scarf and that traveling kit. Why would I need to get her a ring as well?"

"Because I might have told Ginny and Angelina you were," she said with a wince.

"Why on earth would you do that?"

Hermione sighed and leaned against the door. "Do you remember how I told you Ginny and Katie were asking about us?" Fred nodded and Hermione began to wring her hands together. "Well, Katie strongly implied that you might, well that you were going to, to," she said as she stuttered to a halt as a thought hit her.

Surely he hadn't actually been planning that, right? After all, she'd seen the ring George had hidden in the linen closet, but how was she to know it was the same one? And certainly he wouldn't even think of that, at least not without dating for at least another two years and several very, very long discussions and a great deal of prior thought. Right?

"That I was going to what?" Fred asked with a note of uncertainty.

"That you were about to do something very rash and I panicked. And then Ginny kept asking more and more questions and Angelina was pressuring me for an answer and was becoming suspicious because they both knew that you're not the type to buy jewelry and I panicked and said it was for your mother, otherwise they'd think that and I -"

She felt Fred shift and a click above her head flooded the closet with a sickly yellow light.

"Love, you're not making any sense. You're going to have to start over," he said slowly.

With a deep breath Hermione began to start over. "We were talking about fabrics and planning and then Katie brought up the fact that you'd bought a ring and Paris. Then Ginny began to ask why you would do a thing like that and she began to imply that perhaps it was for me, but Angelina was there and I couldn't say why you'd bought it. And she was starting to get suspicious and I couldn't come up with any other reason why you'd buy a ring other than that, so I said the first thing that came to mind."

Fred's eyes widened and he stepped back as far as he could in the small room. "That I was about to do what?" he asked, the uncertainty and hint of panic in his voice telling her he knew precisely what.

"That you were about to do something very rash, something that involved a ring and a question," she said with a pointed look, not even trying to lower her voice this time. The look on Fred's face reassured her that she wasn't the only one unwilling to consider that particular even so early in their relationship.

"Hermione, I swear I wasn't –" Fred began, only to be interrupted by the stairs creaking above them. He shifted to douse the light and they both waited until after a shadow had passed in front of the door. "How would they even get that idea into their heads? We've only known each other since September," he whispered.

"I know, but you bought a ring Fred. A wedding ring," she hissed. "What else were they supposed to think? That you were going to give it to Mrs. Pomfrey across the way for helping you with your oven last week?"

"What, you don't think she deserves a ring like that?"

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she tried to not injure her boyfriend. "Are you always this obtuse or do you practice at it? You bought a ring in France and everyone in the UK wants to know why. Katie even asked me point blank if you'd asked yet."

Fred's jaw dropped and he shifted. There was a soft thud and Fred cursed and stumbled towards her.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just forgot about that ruddy beam up there. I can't believe she asked you that."

"That's why I panicked and said I didn't know what she was talking about as quite obviously neither of us have even considered that. Especially since we've only been dating five months –"

"Six," Fred interrupted in a stunned voice. "Hermione, I swear that ring is George's, I would never –"

"Six months then. And Angelina is quite obviously out of the running for people you'd give a ring to, as are Katie and Alicia. Not to mention that Ginny wouldn't ever wear that sort of thing. There really wasn't anyone else I could think of and your Mum really was the only choice in the matter, especially with her sixtieth coming up, and oh Fred, I'm so sorry but I just couldn't let Angelina find out that it was her wedding ring. I just couldn't let her find out before George told her."

"Hermione I swear, it's for Angelina, that never occurred to me," Fred said, his voice cracking.

"I know, and that's why you have to go buy your mother ring as soon as you can tomorrow or your entire family will think that you and I, that we, oh god what does your mother think?" Hermione asked as another wave of panic hit her. "Do you think that she thinks we are?"

Fred's eyebrows drew together as he began to realize exactly what it was that his mother would think. "Oh Christ, this is bad. We have to do something before Mum really gets going. And George. He's going to kill you when he finds out," he said as he ran his hand through his hair.

The stairs began to creak and Mrs. Weasley's voice rang up the stairs, followed by her footsteps on the stair. Fred grabbed the knob and turned it as he leaned against the door. With his free hand he held up a finger to his lips and Hermione nodded. Mrs. Weasley's shadow stopped in front of the door a moment later and began to jiggle the doorknob. When it didn't move she huffed in frustration.

"Arthur, the linen door is stuck again. You're going to have to fix it again," she called out as she began to make her way back downstairs.

Hermione let out the breath she'd been holding and Fred slowly released the door handle. "Me? Why would he be mad at me? I'm not the one who was photographed coming out of Cartier's in France," she whispered back.

"But you did tell Gin and Ang I bought Mum a ring," he hissed back. "I don't buy jewelry," he said with a stamp of his foot.

She raised an eyebrow at his childish behavior and crossed her arms. "You did in France, remember? Besides, you're the one who encouraged me to go out with them. 'It will be good for you to get to know them, Hermione. They're my best mates, Hermione.' And all the while you forgot to mention they swarm at the sight of any sign of weakness," she said with a glare.

"How was I supposed to know you'd be talking about that sort of thing. I'm not even sure how –" Fred stopped as a creak was heard. When it appeared to just be the house settling, he turned back towards her. "Besides, I didn't realize you'd be talking about rings and that sort of thing. And it's not my fault you can't lie."

"I wasn't the one talking about it, it was your friend and your sister," Hermione shot back. "And I can too lie, just not when I'm put on the spot like that."

"If you could lie I wouldn't have to go out and buy a ring. I don't even know where you'd buy a ring –"

The closet door swung open and Bill's grinning face popped around the door. "So this is where you two lovebirds have disappeared to. And what's this talk of rings? Not planning on following in George's footsteps are you Freddie?"

"No!" Hermione and Fred shouted, causing Bill to take a step back.

Hermione's eyes shot open and her stomach dropped as she realized how Fred might have taken her quick denial. She glanced at Fred and saw that his face looked as shocked as her own. They stared at each other for a moment before the corner of Fred's mouth began to twitch. Hermione bit her lip and tried not to laugh, but when Fred snorted it was enough to send them both into fits of laughter at the ridiculousness of it all.

If either had been paying any attention they would have noticed Bill slowly backing away from the closet door, muttering about how he hoped insanity skipped a generation.

Xxxx

9 May

Fred leaned against the glass jewelry case and pointed at a gaudy emerald ring that ended in a series of increasingly complex points. "What about that one?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at his choice and walked to the next glass case. "Only if you want to be disinherited for reminding her about emeralds. Remember what she said about your Aunt Muriel's broach?"

Fred grinned and scrunched up his face. "If I had known she was going to flash it at everyone like a common streetwalker I would have snatched it up from Granny Prewitt while they still had the casket open," he said in a passing imitation of his mother.

She laughed and walked towards the next case. "I still can't believe she said that in front of your cousins. Herman almost fell out of his chair when he heard that."

"Mum says all sorts of things when she's had a few, and Granny Prewitt's jewelry has always been a sticking point for when it mysteriously reappeared on the finger of Fabian's ex-wife after his funeral. What about that one?"

Hermione frowned. "It looks too close to the ring George picked out. Look for something simple, though I'm sure she'll love whatever you get her.

Fred snorted and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. "Obviously Mum's never told you about our Mother's Day presents in primary. She never did seem to like those cards George and I made."

"Probably because they were filled with whatever dirty limericks you managed to pick up from Bill and Charlie. What do you think about this one?"

He squinted at the simple gold band inlaid with diamonds. "Too close to her engagement ring. And they weren't filled with dirty limericks. We sent those ones to Dad. That one isn't bad."

Hermione looked to where he was pointing and rolled her eyes. "Fred, that's a key ring. Come on, there's another row of cases on that side we've only looked at once."

"This is impossible," Fred groaned as he threw himself down onto the settee at the end of the aisle. "Why couldn't I have picked a girlfriend who can lie better?"

"Because then she wouldn't put up with your childishness," she said with a huff as she crossed her arms, frustrated with both the lack of stores and her own inability to come up with a better cover story.

After finally coming up with a plausible excuse to run into town around eleven (Hermione had 'forgotten' her toothbrush and floss, two very important items for the daughter of dentists), the two had finally managed to make it to the only department store in town. They had wandered around the jewelry section for almost an hour before a pushy saleswoman who demanded to be addressed as 'Madam' had attempted to sell them the entirety of the small town jewelry selection. It wasn't until Fred had remembered the old pawnshop in the back of town that they'd finally been able to escape from mauve draped woman with the excuse that they'd left an egg in the bathtub and a rat in the milk jug. Now that they'd been in the pawnshop for almost forty-five minutes they were both coming to the end of their patience.

"Just pick something, and don't bother telling me how much it costs. I'll pay anything to get this over with," Fred whined as he handed his wallet to Hermione.

"May I help you?" an older man with wild, wiry hair asked as he seemingly appeared out of thin air.

"Figures, clerk only comes round after you've got my wallet," Fred muttered as he stood up.

Hermione frowned at him before turning to the sales clerk. "Please, we're a bit lost in all this. We're trying to find a ring for his mother, nothing too big or flashy though."

The man paused for a moment before giving them a kind smile. "I know just the thing. Very classic and one of a kind," he said as he turned and walked towards the back of the shop. "There are not many around here who request things like this, so I've made it a habit to keep in the back with all the other historical items."

Hermione glanced at Fred before following the older man to an unlit case in the back. They watched as he wiped the dust from the case and flipped a switch on the inside. The lights in the case flickered for a moment before revealing a small selection of jewelry that took Hermione's breath away.

"Oh these are just gorgeous," she breathed. "The pearl earrings are absolutely lovely. Do you think she'd like those instead?"

"It's got to be a ring, love," Fred reminded her gently.

"Pity," she said as she tore her eyes away from the earrings to look at the rings. "What about that one?" Hermione asked as she pointed to a gold signet ring inset with a black stone. The clerk pulled the ring out and handed it to her. She had to suppress a shudder as a sudden chill came over her and she passed it quickly to Fred.

"What's this symbol?" Fred asked as he squinted at the ring. "A circle in a triangle?"

"Cut by a line, yes. It's an old family crest, one that came to me from an old friend whose long since passed, I'm sorry to say. That ring is the second of a set that had been in the Gaunt family for years."

Fred frowned at the ring before handing it back to the clerk. "A bit odd isn't it? Mum wouldn't care for it. What about the one with the diamond, that might do."

"Lovely choice sir," the clerk said as he pulled out the ring and handed it to Hermione.

Hermione turned the ring around and nodded. "It's quite pretty. And it will go with the earrings George got her."

Fred raised an eyebrow. "George got her earrings? Didn't know that. How much is it?"

"117 pounds, but for another forty I'll throw the pearl earrings in as well," the clerk offered with a glance at Hermione.

"Mother's Day is coming up," she reminded him.

Fred sighed and pulled out his wallet. "Alright. The both of them then. Do you do gift wrapping?" Fred asked as he pulled out his charge card."

"Of course, sir. And should you have any other questions or any other jewelry needs, my name is Ollivander and I am at your service," the man told them with a small bow before leading them towards the front register.

xxxxx

At 5:15 sharp, Fred and Hermione walked through the doors of Madam Puddifoot's Patio, one of the more upscale restaurants in the sleepy town of Ottery St. Catchpool. For the first time in years Bill had managed to convince Mrs. Weasley to go out for her birthday dinner rather than spend the entire day in the kitchen cooking for her family. Even more surprising, Arthur had managed to get a last minute reservation for the large family with little more than a phone call.

Fred quickly slipped over the manager and passed the ring box and a note to him, along with a tenner and instructions that it be slipped into his mother's brown oversized bag after dinner. With any luck the piece of jewelry would be enough to dispel any ides his sister and mother might have had about the couple. If not, she wasn't sure what would convince them. When it was done, Fred gave her a thumbs up as he walked back over to her.

"Got rid of it then?"

"Of course. He'll pass it off to our waiter, who'll then slip it in Mum's bag when they bring the after dinner coffee, along with a quick note from yours truly," he told her as they began to wind through the restaurant.

"Not another dirty limerick I hope. I heard enough of those in the car on the way over to last me a lifetime."

Fred scoffed and stepped to the side to allow a departing family to pass them. "As if I'd do something like that. The last time I told Mum a dirty joke she wouldn't let me have dessert for a week. I just slipped in a note that would put even Ginny's writing to shame," he told her.

"Well? What was it?" she said when it appeared he wasn't going to continue.

"'For the greatest woman I've ever known. It shall never be enough for all you've done and I can only hope it gives you a fraction of the happiness you've given me,'" Fred said dramatically.

Hermione frowned at him as they began to walk towards the back of the restaurant. "You certainly didn't have to go that far. Now she'll never believe it's from you."

"Too late to do anything about it now, love," he told her as he waved at his brothers across the room. "Chin up or they'll think we're up to something."

"We are," she muttered as she followed him towards the table, stopping only at the end to greet his parents before finding two seats saved at the other end near Charlie, Ron and Daphne.

"There you two are, come join us!" Charlie called, pulling out the seat next to him for Hermione. "Ron was just telling us all about his latest brush with death. Apparently one of his coworkers decided to flirt with him up with homemade chocolates, but only managed to take out half the department with food poisoning."

Ron flushed and scowled at Charlie. "I didn't say she was trying to flirt with me. I just said she was giving out chocolates before her annual review.

"Sounds like flirting to me. And I've received chocolate from enough lovely ladies to know that much," he said with a wink at Daphne who rolled her eyes.

"Sounds like a bribe to me. And I've received enough chocolate from lovely ladies to know that much," he said with a wink.

Hermione could only give Daphne a sympathetic smile as she took the seat next to Charlie without comment. She'd learned the hard way last night to never get involved in the siblings' squabbles, especially after Ginny had almost dumped a plateful of mashed potatoes on her after agreeing that Arnold was a strange name for a pet guinea pig. With the exception of Ron and Charlie arguing good naturedly the rest of the night, the rest of dinner passed amicably enough and Fred proved to be far better at deflecting his family's prodding questions about their status as a couple, a talent Hermione was growing fond of the more time passed.

As the waiters began to clear the table, Charlie began to entertain those around him with stories about Norbert the tiger who had been won by a Scottish groundskeeper in a game of poker. Though the older man was as caring an owner as one could find for such a wild creature, he knew it was only a matter of time before the cub got too big to hide anymore. Just as Charlie began to tell them about how they'd managed to get Norbert safely out of Scotland, the sound of a knife ringing against a glass cut through the air.

Several eyes glanced first down towards their end of the table and Hermione squirmed as she tried to stop herself from splaying her hands out on the table to show how ringless her hands were. A glance at Fred showed that his ears were burning and he was staring at Percy standing up at the other end of the table next to their parents. At Percy's signal, the waiters began to refill everyone's wine glasses, one of whom caught Fred's eye and winked as he passed.

Satisfied that he had the attention of his family, Percy cleared his throat and raised his glass. "My dearest family. I know we've had our disagreements in the past, but one thing we can agree on is that this woman her, our dear mother, is one of the greatest mothers a man could –"

"Or woman!" Ginny called from the other end of the table.

"Yes, or woman, thank you for that Ginny. I know we're all grateful to be here with each other to celebrate the day of her birth. Some of you may not know this, but throughout her entire life she has been a shining example of womanhood, of motherhood, and of general personhood her entire life, through the hard times and through the good times. Without her, I doubt any of us would have achieved as much as we have all been able to. I know some of us would have had far different, and dare I say much more troubled, lives," Percy said, taking a moment to look over his glasses at George, Fred, and Ginny who grinned at each other.

"On this special night, I am reminded of what that great statesman Churchill once said, he said," Percy paused as he patted his coat pockets. When he found that they were empty, he turned to Penny and pointed at her bag. "Penny, be a dear and find that quote for me. I believe it was on the back of that receipt from Woolworth's earlier today." Penny nodded and began to look through the bag that sat between her and Mrs. Weasley on the table.

" As I was saying, Churchill was a great Englishman, one we should all strive to emulate in politics and in our personal lives, one who lead this country away from the brink of destruction, a man outside of time itself, a man who-"

Percy's speech was interrupted by a squeal as Penny threw herself at him and began to kiss him on the cheek. "Oh, you dear, sweet, sweet man! It's absolutely gorgeous, I love it! My answer is yes!"

A bemused expression crossed Percy's face and he reached up to straighten his glasses. "Yes what dearest?"

Penny held up her hand, the ring that Fred and Hermione had purchased earlier in the day shining on her finger. "Yes, I will marry you!" The table erupted in noise as Percy's jaw dropped in shock. Mr. Weasley stood up and hugged them both while tears of joy began to stream down Mrs. Weasley's face.

"Oh my dear boy, I dreamed that this day would happen someday. Oh, I'm just so happy for you two, I couldn't have asked for a better gift," she said through a smile.

"Congrats, Perce! Didn't think you had it in you," Charlie said as he stood to congratulate the couple.

"Now you can make him an honest man Penny," George teased.

Hermione leaned across the table at Fred, never taking her eyes off Penny and Percy. "Fred. You didn't happen to check what purse your mother was planning on bringing today did you?" she asked in a low tone.

Fred was silent a moment as he watched his family gather around the newly engaged couple. "Well, at least Mum can finally say Penny's a proper part of the family now."

xxxx

Happy holidays everyone, I hope you had a lovely one! I just want to thank all of you who have reviewed for your kind words, it lights a fire under my fingers to get typing and I appreciate everyone who has reached out so much. Hope you enjoy the latest chapter and have a great weekend!

In the next few chapters, George and Angelina's wedding will be coming up, along with the fifteenth annual Weasley Family Olympics.

A big thanks to Moranginette for correcting my horrible French! I always appreciate the help.


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